Staying Silent
by HotChilliGriffin
Summary: Kate gets a stalker, who never learned not to play with deadly weapons. Some white-knight stuff from Mike, at which point the romantics among you will melt into a gooey puddle. Lock your door, and have soft toy/Significant Other on hand. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Staying Silent, Part 1 – April**

The bed was hard, but somehow she knew she shouldn't be complaining at the feel. _It's softer than concrete_, she thought vaguely, wondering where that thought had come from. Her mind was wading slowly towards consciousness, the darkness around her as thick as honey. Her eyes were stinging, and she guessed that there was a light on – she reacted by keeping them squeezed tight.

"_You looking at something, girlie?"_

The voice caused goosebumps to jump up along her arms. She relaxed, just a little, when she realised no-one had spoken – it was a memory.

_What happened?_ she asked herself. She twitched one finger, then the rest of them in turn; the movement helped pull her awake. She usually woke up much faster than this in the morning. So was something wrong?

"_What did you see?" he hissed, the knife pressing against her throat, hard enough to draw blood._

She forced each limb to move, wincing mentally at the pain in her shoulders. She tried to lift a hand to her throat, but her arms felt leaden. _What did I see? What's going on?_ she thought furiously, struggling to sit up even though she couldn't yet control her body.

"_Nothing! I swear, I didn't see anything! Please..."_

Wait. That was her voice. Begging. What the hell had happened?

Kate McGregor could count the number of times she'd begged for something on one hand. The feeling of a knife pressed against her throat returned. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to face the world – whatever was happening in it – until she had worked out what the hell was going on. She concentrated.

_Think logically... what day is it? What's the last thing you remember?_

Yesterday... last night... or maybe it was still last night. She could still be in danger. She'd been at home. Alone. She was bored. Nothing on TV. Shore leave.

Events started fitting into place. She'd gone to the video store. Ezy-DVD, about fifteen minutes walk from her apartment. Not for the movie so much as for the exercise. It had been late... maybe nine o'clock. She had been so bored... restless.

_Then what?_ she asked silently, her eyes flickering from side to side underneath the closed lids. Light was filtering through the thin skin, her retina seared by the redness. She was nearly awake, but tried to fight consciousness for a little longer, desperate to find out where she was, and why.

"_You little bitch..."_

_The blade sunk deeper into her throat, and she let out a pathetic whimper._

"_I promise, I promise I won't tell... I swear it," she choked out._

She was dead. The thought hit her hard, and she gulped. Suddenly; great pain. She sucked in a deep breath, and the feeling intensified.

_Back to sleep would be good now..._ she thought. Her eyes flew open before she could stop them, and she immediately recoiled at the hideous fluorescent lights. She blinked several times, fear building when she didn't immediately recognise her surroundings.

"_You sure you'll remember to stay silent? You won't forget?"_

"_I promise, I won't tell anyone, ever... I didn't see anything..."_

A lie. The memories came into focus, background information making itself apparent. She'd never even made it to the video store. She'd seen someone walking past... with blood on his knuckles. Of course, she (_curious moron!_) had to check it out.

She'd seen two guys beating up a third. She had been about to go out and help, when one of them had drawn a knife and stabbed the victim in the gut, at the same time slicing upwards. Killing him. Not even her Navy training could defend her against that sort of ruthless attack.

Something grabbed her from behind, pushed her against the wall. Her feet slipped in the fresh blood, as the bloody knife rested against her throat, and the man holding it opened his mouth to hiss –

Kate wrenched her eyes open, willing to face the harsh hospital lights in order to escape the nightmare, her breathing settling.

She was in hospital. Alive. Even if there was still that intense pain in her mouth. She tried to call out.

"Hello?" Except that's not what it sounded like. She moved her tongue, ignoring the scream-worthy agony, and all that came out was a muffled, "He-bo?"

She was fully awake, finally, but there was still something seriously, awfully, wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Staying Silent, part two – April**

"It's symbolic," Buffer said, sneaking an extra spoonful of scrambled egg onto his breakfast plate. Bomber was too caught up in his explanation to notice.

"How is it symbolic?" she asked.

"Just is. The cutting of someone's tongue is a message – means 'don't talk'. Used to intimidate witnesses," Buffer said. He was tempted to go an extra slice of toast, but thought better of it.

"So you think the X saw something on shore leave?" Spider said from behind him.

"Could be."

"So that's why she's saying she can't remember what happened?" Bomber guessed. Spider snorted.

"C'mon. The X? To her, the word 'intimidated' only applies to _other_ people."

"So why isn't she saying anything?" asked RO, who was for once grabbing breakfast at the same time as everyone else.

"If she says she can't remember, then I believe her," Spider replied stoically. Buffer smirked, and moved away from the galley.

"All I know is that while Kate's in hospital, we've got to deal with XO Stark, and that the CO's going to be a little more volatile than usual."

"Why is the captain mad?" RO asked, almost treading on Buffer's heels in his rush to escape from the press of hungry sailors. Buffer thought about it for a moment.

"Means more paperwork," he grunted after a moment. The excuse seemed to satisfy RO, who hadn't seen what Buffer had – the CO's tender hands holding Kate's as she battled the hospital bed, determined not to have someone else take over her job.

But logic had won out, and now they were stuck with Jonothan Stark for the next two weeks. He wasn't unskilled, but he didn't know the Hammersley or her crew. The junior sailors especially couldn't wait to get Kate back.

***

"The crew missed you," Mike said, coming down the hall and into Kate's kitchen. A week with Stark and things had at least fallen into a balanced routine. This was the first opportunity he had had to see her since they had sailed away without her. She shrugged, and gestured at the kettle. He nodded, and she started making two mugs of tea.

"Problems?" she asked, doing her best to hide the slight lisp. He shook his head.

"No. Just the normal issues with a new crewmember." He changed the topic. "When do the stitches come out?"

"Tomorrow," she muttered, turning away from him. She had been assured that her tongue would heal just fine, and that her speech would return to normal as soon as the swelling went down. Just then, the kettle boiled, and she gratefully relocated her attention.

"Remembered anything else?" Mike asked casually. She only just stopped herself from glaring at him.

"No," she said, trying to sound calm. He continued to stare at her back, and after a moment she glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

"You are a terrible liar," he commented.

"I am not!" she retorted. Then she realised how that sounded. "What are you implying?"

"Just that I don't think you've ever forgotten anything in your life before."

"It's called amnesia, Mike. I don't remember anything after I left for the video store." For some reason, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. She wasn't sure what she would see – pity? Suspicion? Longing?

"Look at me," he instructed, as if reading her thoughts. She scowled, and tried to turn away. His hand snaked out, and caught her wrist.

"Whoever did this to you did more than cut through your tongue. They scared you. And I don't know many people who could do that, Kate."

She shivered. So maybe she did remember. Her breathing hitched as she recalled the knife at her throat, the pool of blood beneath her feet. And then the taste of it. She had almost drowned on it before blissfully passing out. The stitches in her tongue ached, and it was as if she could still feel the hands around her wrists –

She jerked her hand away from Mike's grip, cursing how weak she suddenly felt. What had been different? Why was she breaking down now? She'd been strong facing armed hostiles, she had been tough when she had been used as a hostage, and even getting shot in the back hadn't fazed her too much.

But this? She squeezed her eyes shut, as a tear battled its way towards her cheek, and she fought it with all the pride and emotional detachment she could muster. But she was unable to stop the way her breathing roughened.

When Mike reached out his long arms and pulled her to his chest, she lost it completely. She let out a ragged sob, and her fingers clutched desperately at his shirt, praying he would be enough to keep her afloat in the impending flood. She pushed aside the throbbing in her tongue and tried to forget about the scar running down the centre, and finally let the fear and grief run its course.

A few minutes later, a headache beginning to burn behind her eyes, Kate slowly regained her balance and pushed herself away from the comfort of his embrace. He let her go, watching her carefully.

"I'm not supposed to be like this," she gasped, rubbing furiously at her face. Mike bit the inside of his cheek, worried that she might swing from upset to angry – it had happened before. Kate continued, and he suddenly realised that she was angry – but the rage was directed at herself, not at him.

"I'm not supposed to be _weak_!"

"Being scared doesn't mean you're weak," he said soothingly, reaching out a hand and softly brushing the hair out of her eyes. She ignored his touch.

"He said he was going to kill me," she said shakily, her voice trembling uncertainly as her fingers gently touched her throat.

"You're safe with me," Mike whispered, stepping closer. There was a line, a very fine line, that they kept between them at all times, always watching the past warily. Somehow, this occasion was an exception to that rule. He wasn't comforting her as a lover or as a colleague, but as a friend. That was what she needed.

"I don't know why... why he scared me," Kate continued. "How many times do I face that each day? And this... I just, I don't know why, I want, I don't..."

With each truncated sentence, the ache in her tongue grew worse, and she grew less and less coherent, until the only thing coming from her mouth was a whispered wail. Mike took her into his arms once again, and rocked her gently, wondering what on earth he was going to do now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Staying Silent, part twelve – September**

For a moment, Kate stayed completely silent, a nerve in her temple twitching with each joyous ring. Suddenly, she jumped up, grabbed the power cord, and wrenched it free, and then threw the entire set down the hall. It banged loudly on the floor, bounced twice, and came to rest outside her bedroom door.

Trembling with a cocktail of emotions, Kate glared after the phone.

"We were having a moment!" she yelled at it. It lay still and quiet on the carpet.

She then turned around, and flopped back into her seat. She glanced up at Mike. He was staring at her, mouth slightly open.

"You don't have an 'ignore' button?" he asked, still gaping. She scowled.

"Half the time it's _him_, and the other half it's some guy trying to get me to switch phone plan or asking me to fill in a survey." Kate's voice twisted to imitate an Indian accent. "Hello, you win big prize! But before you claim big prize, you must answer questions!"

"Calm down," Mike said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sighed. Just then, her mobile started ringing, and she pulled it out of her pocket, glancing at the screen.

"It's Marshall," she said impassively. Mike grinned, and checked his own mobile was on silent.

"Dare you to tell him he interrupted something," he said. Kate fought to stop herself from laughing, and answered.

***

"I'm suddenly subconscious about having my picture taken," Kate muttered. "Whose idea was this?"

"We're the only patrol boat in the area that isn't tasked at the moment," Mike said placatingly.

"I know _that_," Kate said. "But still. I do not want to have to deal with reporters. Or photographers."

"Marshall wants to show us off to the world."

"Oh _goody_," Kate said sarcastically. Three days ago, this hadn't seemed like such a problem. Today it was.

Being told that a newspaper group was going to be touring the boat wasn't the only thing Kate was worried about. She had hopped into a cab half an hour ago, and instantly frozen. The thin build and dark hair of the cabdriver had convinced her it was _him_. Only when he had spoken, asking where she wanted to go, had she realised it wasn't the same man, and been able to stutter out an address.

It wasn't the first time it had happened. Kate now had shivers running down her spine every time she went out in public, as the feeling of being watched intensified and weakened, depending on where she was, and who she was with.

Today, it was at an all time high, and she was trying not to let on to Mike just how paranoid she had become, or how much this was bothering her. She didn't want her picture taken. She didn't want a photographer _looking_ at her. She didn't want _anyone_ to look at her. She wanted to get back home, and hide somewhere that didn't have windows or phones.

She was mentally exhausted. Shore leave was supposed to be a time for rest and relaxation. It gave her neither.

"This'll be them," Mike said, drawing her mind back to the present. A dark blue sedan with tinted windows was pulling up.

"Guided tour," Kate muttered again. Mike glanced at her, and his lips twitched.

"And then they'll take pictures of us... you don't reckon Marshall has a sense of humour, do you?"

Before she could answer, four people jumped out of the car. Two of them had laptop satchels strapped to their shoulders, and the other two quickly ran around to the boot of the car, and started unloading cameras. Kate drew in a deep breath, noticing that two of the men were tall and thin. The last thing she needed was to lose it in front of bloody reporters.

_That would make an interesting headline_, she thought to herself. _Crazy woman guarding international border..._

"Richard King, Cairns Daily," said the first journalist, shaking Mike's hand, and then Kate's. She struggled to plaster a smile on her face, as images flashed in front of her mind. A man, pushing her backwards, holding a knife to her throat, his face shrouded but his voice hissing into her ear...

"Lieutenant Commander Mike Flynn, and this is my Executive Officer, Lieutenant Kate McGregor."

Kate breathed in as calmly as she could. Of course it wasn't him. She knew that. But lack of sleep and lingering tension were digging at her, had been all week, and today would be another test of her perseverance.

Richard introduced the other reporter as Steve Hammond, and the two cameramen as Charlie Dale and Lucius Samuels. The latter also sent shivers down Kate's spine, and she bit her lip to keep herself steady as she shook his hand. He nodded, the vestiges of a smile tainting his lips, but didn't say anything. Neither did Charlie.

"Cameramen," Steve muttered to her as they walked towards the Hammersley. "Don't take it personally. I'm yet to find a sociable one."

He and Richard laughed, while Lucius and Charlie both sneered in reply.

***

"You okay?" Mike murmured softly as they stood in the bridge. Kate glanced at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, just as softly, praying their guests wouldn't hear them.

"You're all twitchy," he replied, and she cursed silently. She had hoped that no-one had noticed it. He continued. "And you're sweating."

"I'm fine," Kate said stiffly. He knew as well as she did that she wasn't, but right now, there was nothing they could do but push through it.

"Just try and keep a handle," he said, one hand brushing her arm. Surrounded by reporters, there was nothing else he could do. "We stuff this up and it'll be Marshall trying to kill you."

She gritted her teeth, and nodded. As well-intentioned as the joke was, it just accentuated the twisted feeling in her gut. The photographers both had state-of-the-art cameras, with more dials and buttons than any normal person would know what to do with, and were snapping hundreds of shots of the interior of the ship. They also took as many shots as possible of both Kate and Mike. Kate wondered how they could possible afford to develop that many.

The ordeal lasted hours, the reporters firing quick-answer questions at the officers, scribbling down answers and occasionally random notes about the ship. Finally, the foursome looked at each other and nodded. A few handshakes later, they were climbing back into their car, Richard and Steve waving cheerfully.

Charlie ignored them, focusing on carefully repacking his cameras. Lucius looked back once, his gaze settling on Kate for a minute, and again, the ghost of a smile crossed his features. It was not a pleasant smile. She shivered, wanting to look away, but knowing it would be impolite to do so.

When the group finally left, Kate sucked in a deep breath, like a diver coming up for air after a hour underwater. But it didn't displace the quiet quivering sensation in her gut.

***

The problem, Lucius decided, was that when you forced an artist to attempt to create something on a subject they didn't like, it ended up as a pile of crap. But these! These were works of art, truly magnificent.

He knew a lot about people. And the most important rule was that when trying to achieve something, you didn't do it yourself. Which was why he had asked Richard to suggest a piece on the Navy to the Cairns Daily's editor. Coming from their top journo, the idea had been an instant success.

It had been a gamble, of course – there was no guarantees that Lucius would get the job – but he knew he was the best photographer there, even if he was only a free-lancer. Maybe Richard had been thoughtful enough to suggest him. They had worked together before, and even though Richard was a complete arsehole, their combined articles often appeared on the front page. Fate had been on his side – he had returned from getting his new lens to have Richard tell him they were going out.

And while a few hours of the blended humour of Richard King and Steve Hammond had been agony, Lucius knew now that it had been worth it.

Photos. Hundreds of them. He had arrived home and gone straight to his dark room, and now began sorting the images. There was the ones of Mike – he set them aside in a pile. The ones with Kate in them he began to lay out, next to each other in more than a dozen rows. The ones of the ship he also lay out, but to one side.

His gaze lifted to the back wall of his apartment. Kate. Everything was Kate. He smiled blissfully, and closed his eyes.

And then snapped them open, and began to critically analyse his new pictures. No, no, these weren't art. They were photographs, good ones, but the subject was flawed. She looked pale and sick. There was no life, no fear.

With a bellow of rage, he used one arm to scatter the collection, and then began ripping at every photo in sight. Soon enough, he stopped, reminding himself harshly that he still needed some of these for work. Scowling, he stood up, grabbed his camera and car keys, and headed for the door.

He needed pictures, better pictures. And he would just keep shooting until he got them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Staying Silent, part thirteen – October**

Kate moaned, hearing the footsteps coming closer. She looked around for a weapon, but what sane person kept a defensive weapon in their bedroom? Of course, she was starting to believe she had crossed that line a long time ago, and was now standing on the wrong side of crazy.

_Where's my phone?_ she thought desperately. Her landline was still disconnected. Her mobile... she bit her lip, realising it was still in the kitchen. She couldn't get to it.

_Someone is in the house... and you know who, Kate,_ she told herself, trying to swallow but finding her mouth dry.

She backed away from the bed, her eyes flicking between the door and the window. If she broke it, could she get out? Not without alerting him to her plan... but from the occasional creak of the floorboards in the hall, she knew he was too close for her to run to the front door. He was moving slowly. He didn't realise she was awake, that she already knew he was coming.

Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and the air around her was growing steadily thicker. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe. It was an unusually cold spring night, but she knew that wasn't the reason she was shivering.

_He's coming, Kate... he's coming to kill you. You broke your promise, you told, now he's coming to kill you. You broke your promise, but he'll keep his..._

Panic flooded her system. She knew hand-to-hand combat, but he would have his knife, or maybe a gun.

There was a thud, right next to her, and she spun, ready to face her attacker head on. Something grabbed her shoulder, and she twisted desperately, and finally pulled free of the nightmare.

"X? You okay?" asked Nav nervously, her eyes wide. Kate blinked, focusing on the rack above her, the bright fluorescent light to her left humming brazenly.

"The nightmare again?" Nav asked, giving Kate's shoulder a slight squeeze. It was all Kate could do to nod, dropping back onto her pillow, more exhausted now than she had been when she'd gone to bed.

"Did I wake you?" Kate asked, suddenly feeling guilty. Nav shook her head, smiling slightly.

"No, I just came off watch." Sensing the X's next question, Nav answered. "It's about half-three. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, thanks," Kate muttered, rolling over. She wanted to scream with frustration. She'd had the same – or a very similar – dream every single night for the past week. And it wasn't a quiet dream, either – she'd woken Nav several times, but her friend had never complained.

In fact, Nikki was quite worried. Kate's sleeping hours were already disjointed, thanks to the watch rotations, and to lose any of the sleep time allowed was almost torture. A few days had seen Kate lose some of her natural spark. A week left her barely able to think. She now ran through procedures and protocol in a daze, surviving minute after minute in order to re-face the monster dream every time she tried to rest.

Nav's greatest worry was what would happen if the X's exhaustion interfered with a boarding. She made a mental note to talk to Kate about it in the morning, though she didn't know how successful she would be – she'd suggested Kate talk to Swain, or even a proper doctor, and maybe take something to help her sleep, but Kate had vehemently refused, muttering something about not wanting to lower her defences.

Kate wouldn't tell her what the happened in the nightmares, either, even after Nikki had called her pathetic excuse of "I don't remember" for the lie that it was.

Kate just wished that she could forget – not just the dreams, but the memory.

***

"Hey, superstar!" ET called, waving something over his head. Kate tried to focus on it, but the room kept blurring. She rested one hand on the chair next to her, hoping her disorientation didn't show, and managed to make out a piece of paper... no, a magazine. Somehow, she'd been tricked into agreeing to a night at the pub, but all she really wanted to do was sleep – not that she'd get much, so she might as well be here.

"Article's out," said Mike, appearing at her side. "Heads up."

Kate hesitated, and then took the magazine ET was thrusting towards her. Cautiously, she skimmed over the article. Her gaze rested for a moment on the photo of her and Mike in front of the Hammersley. Her hair was tightly braided, and even though it was just paper, her eyes seemed to be burning.

"Nice picture," ET said. Kate smiled stiffly and nodded, the movement causing a headache to take up residence behind her left eye. Not wanting to add to her misery with alcohol, she ordered an iced tea, and sat down slightly apart from the noisy sailors.

As the night wore on, she felt herself losing clarity. Her vision was now permanently blurred, and she remained sitting down, knowing that to stand would ultimately result in her hitting the floor. She was intentionally keeping herself awake, hoping that if she was utterly, completely exhausted, she might sleep too deeply for dreams.

"You okay?" asked a voice next to her ear, and she was able to make out Mike, sitting down beside her.

"Yeah. Just tired," she replied truthfully. He frowned, and grabbed her hand under the table.

"Sure?" he continued, his eyes searching hers. It hadn't been a busy week – how had he not noticed her condition deteriorating?

"Yeah."

Not able to sense an outright lie, Mike squeezed her hand and stood up.

***

"Is she all right?" asked Nav, coming up behind Mike as he ordered another drink. He tilted his head questioningly, and she shrugged. "She seems a little out of it."

"Just tired. It's been a long week," Mike said vaguely. The last thing he wanted was to draw Nikki into the messed up world he'd let himself and Kate get sucked into.

"Yeah, she's probably tired..." Nav said, but didn't elaborate. She stood next to Mike uneasily, like she wanted to tell him something but wasn't sure what.

"Something up, Nav?" he asked, and she sighed. He sat down, jerking his head to indicate she follow suit.

"I've just been wondering... some stuff. I mean, I know I shouldn't, but it's just..."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, Nav. We're off duty, relax."

Nav sighed, before hesitantly meeting his eyes. "You don't suppose... she could be pregnant, do you?"

Mike nearly dropped his glass. He put it down on the table beside him as he coughed hard, having swallowed a mouthful of beer backwards. Nav was caught between laughing and worrying, and hovered by his side anxiously until he recovered, staring at her in astonishment.

"I know, it's really unlikely, but just, she's been having trouble sleeping lately, and she keeps getting nightmares, and she always looks so sick, and tired... and kind of hormonal... and..."

Nav stopped, breathless, wondering if she should have said that. She suddenly felt less like a concerned friend and more like a gossiping cabin mate.

"Forget it," she mumbled, turning to go back to the group. "I didn't say anything."

"Wait, Nav," Mike called. "What did you mean by nightmares?"

"Oh, just... she's been having a lot. Every night. She won't tell me what they're about, but they look pretty bad... talking in her sleep and stuff."

"How long have they been going on?"

"About a week. She woke me up a few times."

"She never said anything to me," Mike muttered. He had a fairly good idea what was causing the dreams.

"Why would she tell you?" Nav asked, confused. Mike nearly hit himself. Yes, why _would_ the X tell him she was having nightmares?

"It's no wonder she looks tired. Her job requires her to make quick, rational decisions. If she can't do that..."

"What are you going to do?"

Mike sighed. "I don't know. Talk to her, see if I can find out what's wrong." He cast Nav an amused glance. "I don't think she's pregnant, though."

***

He waited outside. The night was warm, but he felt uneasy. The familiar, comforting weight of his camera was missing – today wasn't about pictures.

He tried to remember how long it had been since he had heard her voice... she'd done something to her phone, and every time he tried her number it would ring out. He felt like a heroin addict in withdrawal. He hadn't been close to her for so long. He had fantasies of touching her, and dreams of killing her.

He took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car. He had a plan for tonight. He slipped around the back of the house, somehow managing to walk across leaves and sticks without making a noise. The back door was locked, and so was the steel meshed screen door. He smiled softly, and carefully ripped along the side of the screen door. He reached two fingers through and unlocked it.

For the main door, he used two thin pieces of metal, one straight, the other an L-shape. The silence around him worked to his advantage, and after a moment, he heard a slick click, and the lock rotated clockwise. Once inside, he took stock.

He had never been here before, and he set to memorising the layout of the house; a precaution in case he ever came back. He didn't think he would need to, but he prided his motto – be prepared for anything, and don't get cocky.

He was looking for one item in particular, and he had a good idea where it would be. He crept towards the bedroom. The occupant would probably be fast asleep, but he went cautiously anyway.

He also knew to use whatever he had at his disposal to his advantage – there was a mirror outside the bedroom, the outside decorated with stickers of flowers and gum leaves, and he used it to look inside before actually entering the room.

The woman was asleep, and he relaxed slightly. She didn't look anything like Kate, so for the most part, he ignored her. It always amused him, to think of how a person could sleep so quietly when a killer was perusing their possessions, only a metre or two away, and chances were, they would never even know.

It wasn't on the bedside table, or the dresser, or charging... he frowned. Then, his gaze locked on a pair of dark blue pants, the same ones she had been wearing that night. He carefully slipped two fingers into the left pocket. Nothing. He did the same to the right pocket, and smiled to himself, withdrawing a mobile phone.

It was already on, and so all he had to do was flip through the contacts list, looking for a specific number.

_You're trying to hide from me, Kate? Bad news. You can't._

She was at the very bottom of the list – XO KMG. He opened the contact details, his eyes going first to _mob. no._ He slipped a pen from his pocket, and carefully copied the number onto his hand. His use of the pen was awkward, and he gripped it too tightly to have any flair with his writing, but the numbers were legible.

He cast a quick glance at the sleeping figure behind him, and suppressed a chuckle. He replaced the mobile in its previous position, exactly where he had found it, and left the room. On his way out, he relocked the back door. The only indication anyone had ever been there was the slight tear in the mesh on the screen door – and it was a tiny hole. She might not notice it for months, and even then, it could have been caused by anything from a stick blown by a harsh wind, to an adventurous possum.

Once inside his car again, he let loose a mad laugh. He knew he sounded crazy, and he knew that to a small extent, he might be. But he knew exactly where he was, and exactly what he was doing.

He pulled his own mobile phone from the back seat. Taking it inside would be begging someone to call him, and blow his cover. Before the ink faded, he copied the number from his hand into a new contact, and as a laugh, saved it as 'XO KMG'.

He wondered whether he should call her now. No, he would wait. It seemed very, very funny all of a sudden. She didn't know he had this number. She wouldn't know how he had obtained it. And whatever she did, she wouldn't be able to stop him. Even if she bought a new phone, changed her number, it would only take him twenty minutes to find out what it was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Staying Silent, part five – July**

There was something fresh and soothing about the sea. Kate watched as the waves parted to allow the Hammersley passage, as the patrol boat cut through the ocean. On the distant horizon, there was a dark smudge, which would over the next few hours resolve into the Australian mainland, and more specifically, Hammersley's home port.

She had never been so dismayed to see it. Her knuckles cracked as she gripped the railing, trying to hide the trembling.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped, whipping around to see Mike.

"Don't do that," she snapped. He raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't exactly being quiet," he protested. She turned away. "You look deep in thought."

"Nope. Just looking forward to some shore leave," she replied. He nodded.

"Doing anything special?"

"No, I don't think so. You?"

"Nope."

There was a tense silence, as Mike worked up the courage to speak again.

"So, uh... you know, maybe we could catch a movie. Or something." Kate smiled to herself.

"I have a large pile of DVDs that I haven't seen in a while," she suggested. Mike grinned, partly with enthusiasm but mostly in relief.

"That sounds great. Avoids the crowds," he said, smiling awkwardly.

After a moment, he excused himself, and Kate was left wondering whether he wanted to spend time with her as a friend, or if he wanted to keep an eye on her. Or something else entirely.

***

"Tea or coffee?" he asked, setting the kettle to boil. She really did have a pile of DVDs – unorganised, and thrown in higgledy-piggledy, in a box she usually shoved under the TV.

"That is the least Kate-like organising scheme I have ever seen," he commented, as she hauled the box out, and started looking at titles.

"A friend gave them to me, a couple of weeks after I moved in," she said, sneezing suddenly, wiping dust off the cover of the case in her hand. "Haven't even looked at them yet."

"Ah. So what do you want to drink?"

"Coffee, thanks," she answered after considering. Then she smiled, looking down at the video in her hand.

"You ever seen Milo & Otis?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Don't think so. What's it about?"

"A dog and a cat who are friends, and then one of them leaves and then they meet up ages later..."

"Don't spoil it, if we're going to watch it," he interjected. She gave a soft chuckle, and put the movie on. She sat down on the lounge, and Mike shoved a mug of coffee into her hands.

"Thanks," she whispered as he sat down beside her. For a moment, she glanced up at him, and realised he had just turned to look at her, so that their faces were barely an inch apart. The urge to lean forward and press her lips to his was almost irresistible, and she could see he was fighting it too.

Just then, the opening credits ended, and they wrenched their attention back to the TV. Kate could feel her thundering heartbeat, and swallowed, forcing her mind to follow the adventures of her favourite kitten.

***

Kate opened her mouth, her face twisting in sympathy, as Milo fell into the ocean, still hungry and now wet. Mike saw her expression.

"You can't get a cat," he reminded her. Her mouth closed again. "You're not at home enough."

"I saw you smiling at Milo," she said cheekily. "You like him too!"

"Well. Maybe. He's better than the pug, at any rate."

Kate grinned. "They're both cute," she mumbled. Something about Mike being there made her feel so safe. That, and her phone hadn't twitched since she had come home.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. She frowned, and pushed herself upright, padding down the hallway. Mike watched her go, wondering what exactly he was doing here. Because he couldn't deny how nice, how _normal_ it had felt to be sitting with Kate, shoulders touching.

He heard her open the door. A minute passed, and then another. He couldn't hear any voices. Frowning, he stood up, Milo playing hide and seek with a bear on the TV behind him.

"Kate?" he called, looking up the hall. She was standing at the open door, staring out at the street. There was something clutched in her hands. At the sound of his voice, she snapped out of her reverie, and quickly shut the door.

"What's that?" he asked. She walked down the hall, her face pale.

"Mail," she mumbled. As she came closer, she tucked the mysterious object behind her, trying to squeeze past him.

"They deliver it to your door?" he asked in confusion. No, he knew they didn't. Something wasn't right. He grabbed for the envelope, and caught her hand instead. She pulled away, but he was able to take hold of the letter.

He turned it over in his hands, and felt his blood turn to ice. He looked at Kate, searching for an explanation, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"It's got my name on it," he stated, hoping she might start talking. She continued staring at the floor, and she suddenly seemed a completely different person from his reliable XO.

"It's got my name written in blood, Kate."

She slowly shuffled away, towards the dining room, and sat down, hard. He followed, opening the envelope. There was a photo inside – several, actually. He looked at the first one, then laid it face up on the table, so Kate could see it. He went through all ten in this fashion.

A picture of Kate coming off the Hammersley, head turned slightly as she called something to someone out of the picture.

The front of Kate's house, the light in her bedroom on.

The front of Kate's house, all the lights off.

Kate's back garden.

Kate's car, coming down the street.

Kate walking down the street, her eyes fixed forward, completely oblivious to the camera aimed her way.

Kate and Mike coming off the Hammersley.

A picture of the Hammersley. It was night, and hard to distinguish, but it had clearly been taken on the deck. The pier was visible in the background.

A photo of Mike, saluting as he left the Hammersley.

A photo of Mike, in shorts and loose T-shirt, sitting on Donovan's Pier with a fishing rod, a bottle of Crown Lager resting next to him.

He placed the last photo on the table, with an over-controlled demeanour that was starting to seem scary. Kate slowly lifted her head, to stare into his fiery blue eyes. She gathered herself, and refused to look away this time. After all, _Mike_ was hardly the scariest man in her life.

"What is this?" he asked quietly, resting one hand on the pile of photos. She wondered whether he would snap, wondered how long this elastic-like tension would hold him in place.

"It's a pile of photographs," she replied. His nostrils flared.

"If this isn't _enough_ to convince you that you _have to_ go to the police..." he began, but she cut him off.

"This is enough to convince me that I _can't_! He knows who I am! The instant I even look towards a police station, I'm dead!"

"Witness protection!"

"Hell _no_! I don't want to leave here, I don't want to change my identity... I just want this to go away..."

"So you're letting a complete stranger intimidate you to the point where you can't even leave your house! You're terrified! Just admit it, and we can sort something out!"

"No."

"You're being stubborn. _As always_."

"Look who's talking!"

The argument was pushing Kate back into her stride. Dealing with murderous stalkers? No, that was beyond her. Arguing with Mike? She could teach the subject.

"I am _trying_ to help you!"

"By doing the one thing that is sure to get me killed!"

"So you're going to spend the rest of your life hiding?"

"He'll get bored soon. And go away."

Mike stared at her. "When they were handing out logic, were you running late?"

"I'm never late," she snapped back, before realising what he was implying.

"Well, you sure missed the wagon on this. Because he has got you right where he wants you..."

"Sir, I believe that as my superior officer, this doesn't _actually_ concern you, unless it's impacting on my work, which it is not."

"Kate..."

"Don't you dare go behind my back, _Mike_," she hissed, already seeing his decision in his eyes.

"I don't need your permission, _X_," he replied scathingly. "Because now that he's sent these –" He showed her the photos that included him. "That's a threat to _me_. And so you can do whatever you like... but I'm going. The police may want to talk to you, later."

With that, Mike headed for the door. He slammed it shut behind him, leaving Kate somewhere between tears and a furious scream. He had called _her_ stubborn?

Kate drifted back into the lounge room, where the movie was still playing. She watched for a second, one tear trickling down her cheek as Otis turned away from his friends, and the narrator continued.

"_He didn't stop; and he didn't... even... look back."_

The phone rang, and she started so badly her teeth sank into her tongue as her jaw slammed closed. Wincing, she didn't move.

_Maybe it's Mike_, she thought hopefully. Then again, it probably wasn't. She didn't get many calls.

She continued to stand there, listening to each ring patiently, waiting...

Eight rings. Nine. Te- the answering machine kicked in. Kate licked her lips, hearing the recorded message telling callers that she probably wouldn't be home anytime soon, but she'd call them back when she could. It was so... formal. She suddenly hated it.

Finally, the message ended, and the beep sounded.

"A message for Kate... I know you're there, so pick up the damn phone."

The fact that he was swearing, even slightly, was unusual, and it jolted her into action. She gently cradled the received in one hand, shivering slightly as she answered.

"I was... in the other room," she said.

"I don't care where you were. From now on, phone means answer. Got it?"

"You shouldn't have done that," Kate said, deflecting the question. She was still strung up from her fight with Mike, and too proud to play along with her attacker's games. "Everything was fine, and now Mike's gone to tell someone..."

"Well, you'd better stop him, hadn't you?"

"If you had just let it be, he would have forgotten all about... what I told him... but now..."

"If you'd never told him, I wouldn't have had to scare him."

"He doesn't scare easily. You just pissed him off."

"Okay. Lesson learned. Either way, we have a problem."

"You have a problem," Kate corrected.

"Oh no, Kate. _You_ have a problem. Because you're forgetting something. _I'm not alone_. And I've got one of my mates tailing your boyfriend, and if he doesn't turn around soon, he's going to come over later and find you in _pieces_. Several of them."

Her breath caught. Were all the windows shut? Was the back door locked? Jesus, he could pick the lock...

"The thing to remember – whatever you say, they won't find me. It would be annoying, of course, so I'd much rather you didn't. They will, however, find _you_; after I rip out your tongue and post your _head_ in a _box_ to your precious _Mike_," he spat, and with every word he emphasised, Kate flinched. She realised she was hyperventilating, looking desperately around the hall.

She ran down to the kitchen, and grabbed the largest knife she owned – a meat cleaver. She sunk down below the bench, knowing that short of having cameras in her house, he couldn't see her. The thought ripped through her, and she cringed, her knuckles whitening as her grip on the phone intensified.

"What do I do?" she asked once she had found something that resembled her composure.

"You call him. And tell him to come back. This whole conversation is on tape, yes?"

Kate suddenly realised that it was. The answering machine would still be recording.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Play him the tape." He paused. "Listening, Mike? You got all that? For Kate's sake, I bloody well hope so."

He hung up. Fingers trembling, Kate did the same, and quickly dialled Mike's mobile number. _Please have it turned on_, she begged silently. He answered, but didn't say anything, seeing her name on caller ID.

"Mike," she began, her voice wavering. "Please, please, come back."


	6. Chapter 6

**Staying Silent, part six – July**

The message ended, but before the mechanical voice could recite the date and time, Mike had pressed repeat, and was listening to it again. His jaw was set, and Kate thought she could see the rage rebuilding within him – only this time, not directed at her. She couldn't help but feel guilty as her voice was replayed into the silent room, wishing she didn't sound so damn _weak_.

It finished again. From her position on the couch, Kate raised her hooded eyes to Mike's. He stepped forward, sat down beside her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her head drooped, but it wasn't until her forehead touched his chest that she started to sob.

Her breath rattled in and out, her tears soaking into Mike's shirt. The position wasn't comfortable in the least – the unnatural curve of their backs or the tilt on their necks – but neither noticed.

The house was quiet and empty around them, Kate's soft whimpers were partly muffled by Mike's presence, and partly amplified through strange echoes right back at her. The movie had ended, and the TV was now displaying the original black-vs-white ant war.

The oven clock beeped once, as it clicked over to six o'clock. It was already dark outside, and the winter cold was seeping in under the back door. A brisk wind had kicked up, warding people away from the outside world, urging them instead to stay warm and safe in their homes. Inside, however, there was only the cold fluorescent bulb, and for the first time, it was obvious that the curved bowl-shape of the light shade was stopping the glow from truly illuminating the room – the corners of the ceiling were cowled by shadows.

But Mike's shoulders were warm, and the strength in his arms made Kate feel more secure than she had felt in months. Her tongue was stinging, from where she had bitten it earlier, but she pushed aside the pain, finally pulling herself together.

Breathing heavily, she pushed herself backwards. Her eyes itched, and Mike could see the puffy redness around them. Their faces were barely a whisper apart; closer even than they had been when the movie had started earlier, and they had had to fight the Universal Law of Gravitation – all matter is attracted to other matter, and thus two bodies should move closer.

Kate was still scared, and she still felt alone, and she longed to see him close the distance. Her instincts were telling her that if he did, everything would suddenly be all right, and that the scattered pieces of her life would somehow click back together again. But even though he could see the desire, Mike wasn't going to oblige her, instead brushing her wild hair away from her face.

"You okay?" he asked softly, speaking quietly in an attempt to prevent the disturbing echoes.

Kate tried to nod, but couldn't quite manage it. Her neck cricked as she sat up, wiping at her face. She faced him again, mouthing something she couldn't quite bring herself to say. Understanding immediately, Mike nodded slowly, his neck curving into an s-shape as he lowered his head to press his forehead against hers.

Shoulders trembling, she whispered the words again, and hearing them almost broke his heart. He knew what they cost her.

"Help me," she begged.

***

"Is this the first time he called you?" Mike asked. They had moved from the lounge to the kitchen, and he carefully pressed a glass of water into her hand. He knew that caffeine and sugar were the last things she needed right now.

"No," she admitted, gratefully taking a sip of water. Her throat was so dry each breath made her feel like she was inhaling acid.

"When else?" he continued.

"Every time I have shore leave," she whispered, worried about how he would react to that.

He stifled an irritated sigh, having promised himself he wouldn't get angry at her – this wasn't her fault. She'd been scared, and his method of trying to help had made things steadily worse. After calming himself slightly, he suddenly remembered her odd behaviour last time they'd had shore leave...

"He broke into your house?" he asked. She sucked in a breath, and then nodded.

"He's stalking you," he stated, and she shook her head. The actual term 'stalker' hadn't occurred to her, and it didn't feel right. If she'd had to choose, 'watcher' or 'keeper' would have been more appropriate, though not any less terrifying.

"I've never seen him," she replied, taking another drink. She put the glass down, and ran her hands under the tap, then tried to wash away some of the salt still in her eyes. Mike watched dully as she wet her hair, trying to keep it in place. It had long since escaped it's neat plait, and was now attempting to strangle and blind her.

"I'll find him," Mike said suddenly, spitting the words out like a cuss. Kate spun to face him, panic etched across her features, and he continued.

"I'm not going to the police. I'm going to hunt him down myself. And I'll see how much of a bully he is then..."

"Mike... we'll be on patrol next week. And then it's not my problem for another few weeks."

"He's got you doing _paperwork_ on shore leave. That is the sign that things have gone way too far," Mike said, half joking. She gave a small smile. He stepped forward, looking at her tenderly.

"My job is to protect my crew. And I will protect you," he promised. "Twenty-four seven, if I have to."

"I can't ask you to do that," Kate replied softly. Mike set his jaw.

"You're too stubborn to ask, which is why I'm volunteering," he muttered. He could see her about to protest that that wasn't what she had meant – he spoke before she could.

"And there is nothing I would rather be doing, than being with you," he whispered. She shivered, with something other than fear. Tingles were running down her spine in quick succession. How was this possible? How could they stand this close, and yet still be so distant?

Her pent up emotions suddenly charged through her, hitting nerves and pressure points, and a second later she felt ready to explode with a feeling she couldn't even name. She responded by roughly reaching forward, grabbing the hair on the back of Mike's head and pulling him forward, forcing him to kiss her.

She hadn't forgotten the things she had learned about him all those years ago. He could resist temptation for a long time, and he had proved it today – but once she made the first move, he was powerless to resist. She was yet to find out if it was _him_, or just his reaction to _her_. She liked to think it was the latter.

His hands came forward, resting on her shoulders. At any moment, she expected to feel his tongue respond, feel the warmth begin to spread from her mouth to her knees. But then, amazingly, he used his hold to push her _away_. Confused, her lips parted a moment, and he drew back.

What she saw on his face was like a bucket of icy water, and she suddenly felt empty and drained. Longing, definitely, but also an infinite sadness that brought tears to her eyes.

"You said you could be here for me..." she accused, her voice low as she fought to hide the fresh onslaught of pain.

"Not like this... I'm trying to help, but this isn't what you need right now."

"It's what I want..."

"We can't, Kate. You know that, it's why we agreed last time..."

"I never agreed," she pouted. "I was never given a choice..."

He closed his eyes, and suddenly felt her sag. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her upright.

" 'm tired..." she murmured, her eyes flickering. He wasn't surprised. It had been a long day. He hefted her into a proper standing position.

"Let's get you to bed," he said encouragingly.

"You'll stay?" she asked, managing the few steps down the hall towards her bedroom only because of his support.

"I said I would," he reassured her. He pushed open her bedroom door, frowning first in confusion, then in angry frustration at the cardboard she had put up over the window.

"If you're going to leave... just _tell_ me... please..."

"I'm not going," he repeated, wondering whether she was even talking about the current issue, or the one they'd been struggling with ever since she boarded the Hammersley. He used his free hand to push aside the covers, all but dropping her onto the mattress. His eyes softened at how small and vulnerable she looked when curled up, the image not helped by how the bed seemed to dwarf her.

"Don't... leave..." she sighed, and then her mouth closed, and she took a deep, peaceful breath.

He remembered how the crew had all called her tough. And he realised it was all a sham. From the mask of fearlessness to the professional way in which she dealt with him each and every day... deep down, it was all a lie. The problem was that now, the true emotions were coming to the surface and the lie was breaking up.

And, now that he thought about it, so was the mask that he held up each day.

Shrugging, he kicked off his shoes, and slipped into the bed beside her, the roller coaster of emotions catching up with him, too. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake, as he rested his cheek on the back of her shoulder. The rough fabric of her t-shirt was the last thing he noticed before he drifted off, still determined to do whatever he had to do to protect her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Staying Silent, part seven – July**

The air was cold, but it couldn't penetrate the thick layers of blankets Kate kept on her bed. Mike smiled to himself, feeling her warm heartbeat pounding against his right ear. Blinking, he realised what had awoken him.

His mobile phone, still in his pocket, was vibrating angrily against his leg. Careful not to wake Kate, he pulled it out, sitting upright.

"Mike Flynn," he said.

"Hey, boss, it's ET."

"What's up?"

"Yeah, us boys made plans to go to the pub later tonight, but then Nav found out and she's inviting herself, Bomber, and the X. Anyway, you in?"

"Yeah, sure," Mike replied. This would be great for getting Kate out of the house. "You want me to, uh, call Kate?"

"No, I was just talking... on the phone with Nav. She said she'd call her. They're probably giggling already, right?"

Mike laughed, and then his eyes fell on Kate's phone, sitting harmlessly on the dresser.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"I said Nav's going to call the X..."

"Uh, sorry mate, you breaking up. I'll call you back later."

With that, Mike hurriedly hung up – and not a second too soon. At that moment, Kate's phone lit up, and started ringing. And in response, Kate mumbled something.

"Kate? Phone," Mike told her. Wrong word choice. She bolted upright, looking around wildly. The room was dark, and he hastily handed her the mobile.

"It's Nav!" he hissed.

"How do you know?" she asked, checking the display. Sure enough, it was Nikki's number on the screen.

"I'll explain later, just..." He pushed the phone towards her ear, and grumbling, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Kate, it's Nikki!"

"Hi. What time is it?"

"Half past ten. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"About time _someone_ did," Kate muttered, shooting a glance first at the digital clock next to her, and then at Mike. He made a face at her, which she took to mean, _Don't let Nikki know I'm here_. Probably a good idea, she conceded, and tried to listen to what the other woman was saying about ET's plan to get drunk, and how they should be there to pick up the pieces.

The idea was not appealing. Mike glared at her, seeing how she was searching for an excuse to get out of it. She mouthed something at him, but he wasn't sure what. He stabbed one finger emphatically. She shook her head.

Realising Nikki was waiting patiently, if confusedly, for an answer, Kate quickly said, "I need to check my diary. I'll call you back," and hung up.

"You're not spending the next week hiding behind cardboard!" Mike growled.

"So what would you suggest?"

"I'm going," he stated. "You can either come, or stay here. Alone."

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. She was prepared to make a dig about him going back on his promise to stay, but then realised she'd actually told him she didn't want him to, and it would really be much easier to just go...

"Fine," she growled. She stood up, grabbing her bath robe.

"I'm having a shower," she said. "Do something useful. Make breakfast." She started to walk out of the room, but paused, and looked back at him. He was giving her that sad, soft smile again, still sitting on the side of her bed. She smiled back.

"Thanks," she whispered. "For staying."

He nodded, then broke into a grin. "Do you realise how close we were to having ET and Nav realise we were in the same room?" he asked. She snorted.

"Why was I getting the impression _they_ were in the same room?"

He shook his head. "I don't even want to know."

***

"So, what's the plan?" Mike asked. Kate shrugged.

"Get bloody drunk?" she suggested. He frowned.

"We need to find a solution to our problem."

"Not tonight. You wanted me to come. Here I am. Now shut up and buy me a vodka."

They entered the pub, and Nav quickly spotted them, waving them over to the table the boys had commandeered. Bomber had already gotten into a drinking competition with Spider, Buffer, and ET. Spider was swaying unsteadily, ET looked grim, but Buff and Bomber both looked determined not to be the first to give in.

"Well, I guess it's just going to be you and me keeping an eye on them," Nav remarked. Kate smirked, and then shook her head.

"Sorry, Nikki. I'm here to find out how many standard drinks are needed to get alcohol poisoning," she said. Nav sighed, and glanced hopefully at Mike. He shrugged.

"I'm just going with the flow," he said, and ordered a drink.

***

He fired off three rapid shots, loving the click sound beneath his finger as he did so. A second later, the images were burned onto the tape, and he felt something within him begin to close. There were holes all through his body, gaping gashes where he'd been hurt and rejected, but something about her, _Kate_, made him start to feel whole again.

He lowered the camera, watching as her blonde hair disappeared inside the pub. Mike, the bastard, was walking _so_ close to her... close enough to touch, to hold, to kiss. All the luxuries that he'd never have.

Once she was out of sight, the rage that he usually buried deep within came out, and in frustration, he thumped one hand against the steering wheel of his car.

_So Kate and Mike are going to have a night out?_ he hissed to himself. _Well, let them. I've got better things to do than watch some blonde bitch._

He started the engine, and sped down the road. Blood pounded wildly through his head, and everything was suddenly rose tinted, as if he was looking at the world through a dark red lens. He wanted to call her, hear her voice. Hear her fear.

He wanted to be back in that side street, holding her wrists, pressing up against her, hearing the way she begged...

It killed him whenever she went to sea, and he had to survive weeks without her... he'd never really noticed the Navy, until she had stumbled into his life, into a bloody scene that should never have been witnessed. She had been so sweet, her face so brilliantly carved, shining pale and white in the moonlight... and he hadn't been able to kill her.

"Kate," he whispered, his thick voice absorbed by the interior lining.

"Kate," he said again. One syllable... such a common name, but there was nothing common about her. And he didn't know any other Kates, so it didn't really matter... "Kate, Kate, Kate!"

So he could have given her the warning and left it where it was. He knew how smart she was – it was one of the things that made her so special – and he knew that if he'd never spoken to her or thought about her again, she would have kept her promise and stayed silent about what she had seen.

But he couldn't. She had been _scared_! Of _him_, of all people... and he was just a guy, doing a job. And she had begged for her life, and maybe that was the moment he had fallen in love with her. And it was probably the only reason he'd convinced the other two hired thugs to let her live.

They were long gone, of course, and had told him that if the girl talked, it was his problem. He had to struggle through each day with thoughts of _her_ constantly in his head, wishing he could talk to her again. She had been his – until he realised that _Mike_ was on the scene. He just knew that Mike would be a problem.

_So what do I do?_

Take Mike out of the picture...

_How? I can't do it alone, without backup... I'd never get close to him, anyway._

Photos... use the photos. You're a details person, you can get in...

_Whenever I want._

He grinned. It was a plan. And then he could hear Kate's voice again, and maybe one day, he could see her again... watch her plead with him.

How he longed for that day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Staying Silent, part eight – August**

He had read books about men who loved the feel of a gun in their hand, descriptions of the confidence they felt whenever the weapon was in hand. But he'd never really been a 'guns' kind of guy. He was a thief for the most part, but the cash involved in that hit had been too much for him to ignore – and even then, it had been all knives, no guns.

But he knew the feeling. He had it right now, as a matter of fact – his camera was gripped carefully in one hand. He slipped silently through the doorway. He was fairly certain the alarm wasn't on, but cut through the wires just in case. That was how you survived as a thief – by being careful, and taking precautions.

He had surveyed the house for a long time, knew exactly what was inside it. He took a couple of practice snaps, warming up his fingers. He could have been described as trigger-happy – the world was his target. And, he might just have found the perfect model.

He fought back the ever present rage, seeing the ways Kate had made herself at home in Mike's house. He headed down the hall, pushing open the bedroom door with one foot. The tension in his spine started to slip away. They were asleep. It might have been 'cute' – if he didn't feel like he wanted to scream. One of Mike's arms was protectively flung across Kate's side. She was curled up, her back pressed against Mike's stomach.

He wanted to scream, as the rage burned through his restraint, colouring his vision. Better yet, he wanted to _kill_ – maybe himself. Maybe Kate. But definitely Mike.

The idea was thickly appealing. He could go downstairs, to the kitchen. Most people didn't realise how easy it was to kill a person. He knew – he knew how simple it would be to grab a steak knife or similar, and slice through Mike's neck while he was sleeping.

He smiled. And then, Kate would wake up, find herself covered in lover-boy's blood... and scream. How he longed to hear her scream. And then, he would make her cry, make her _beg_, for her life. His tongue flitted out and traced around his lips. The _sweetness_ of it... the simple beauty that was used in all the best plans.

But no. He forced the rage away, swallowed his lust for blood, and lifted the camera. He took a few quick shots, thinking that would be enough. He turned to go – and stopped. He didn't want Mike in his pictures. He would cut him out. But he _needed_ a picture with Mike... he took a couple more photos, and then departed, before either of his models could wake.

***

Mike woke earlier than usual. He had convinced Kate to come back to his place for shore leave – not only did he have a bedroom that didn't face the street, he had a security alarm on the front door. He still refused to 'take advantage of her', but Kate was suddenly wishing he wasn't such a gentleman. They had somehow managed to overcome the awkwardness involved, and had rapidly slipped into a domestic pattern whenever they were on shore.

Except, Kate usually woke before him. Sighing, he rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb her. For a moment, he just stood and watched. Her breath came in and out, slowly, deeply. He found himself taken back through the years, to a time when he'd had this every day – only without a killer stalking them.

Mike made his way down the hall. In the dining room, something felt off. After a moment, he realised the security box wasn't flashing like it should be. Cautiously, he stepped closer. His fingers found the wire, and followed it... to a sharp end.

"What's up?"

He spun around, to see Kate watching him curiously. She shrugged. "You're up early. Something wrong?"

"No," he lied. Her eyes narrowed. He had a terrible habit of momentarily breaking eye contact when he wasn't telling her the truth – he only did it for a second, and he only did it with her, but she was able to see it _every time_.

"I forgot to set the alarm last night," he muttered. She stepped forward warily, looked at the settings.

"No, you didn't," she replied. "I may be accepting your help, but I don't want or need you to lie to me," she continued, pushing him aside. Her fingertips found the cut wire, and she looked at him.

"He got in," she whispered fearfully. After a moment, he nodded, ashamed.

"I should have... made sure. That the place is secure..."

"Not your fault," Kate said, sighing slightly. Some part of her had strangely accepted the new dimension to her life. Mike frowned.

"We can't just let this go..."

"You know, if he _actually_ wanted to hurt me, or you, he could have done it. Theoretically, letting us live is just... stupid."

"You think he has another agenda?" Mike asked. She shrugged.

"He could just be toying with me. Us. But... no. I don't know. I don't want to know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Staying Silent, part nine – August**

Marshall sighed, pressing his fingertips against his temples. It had been a long day, and he didn't need _this_. Not only was it unexpected, it was extra paperwork and nuisance. And could lead to a _whole_ lot of trouble he didn't need.

"I need to ask them," he muttered to his empty office. One hand stretched out towards the phone on his desk, but he didn't pick it up immediately. He was trying to work out how he could _not_ do this. The damn envelope had been delivered anonymously, and at least half of Navcom had seen the contents. If it had been just him, Marshall probably would have burnt the bloody thing and been done with it.

As it was, he had no choice. No choice. He sighed again, and picked up the phone.

***

"He didn't say what he wanted to speak to us about?" Kate asked, and Mike shook his head.

"Told me he need to see us about something. Asked me to call you."

"You didn't need to call me, though," Kate replied, smiling softly. Mike snorted softly.

"Don't tell Commander Marshall that."

Inside, they headed towards Marshall's office. The people they passed stared and nudged one another.

"Did I miss something?" Mike muttered. He'd been in plenty of trouble at Navcom before – but he wasn't even at sea right now. And it wasn't just a few people – it was practically everyone. He knocked; Marshall looked up and waved them inside.

They stood opposite him, the desk in the middle. Mike couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong – but Marshall didn't look _mad_ so much as _disappointed_. For a minute or so, there was silence, and the two officers stood at attention. Finally, Marshall broke the silence.

"I'm going to ask you outright. Are you two in a relationship?"

Kate blinked in surprise, her back tweaking as she leaned forward slightly, as if she wanted to say something – Mike seemed frozen in disbelief. Then he snorted slightly.

"I... no, sir."

Marshall nodded. "That was my initial reaction. I wouldn't have asked... but..."

He turned, breaking eye contact for a moment, and pulled a manila envelope from one drawer. Mike's mouth dried slightly – they _weren't_ in a relationship, but there was evidence to the contrary. But how could Marshall...

"This was anonymously delivered to the front desk this afternoon," he said, handing it to Mike, who took it, and paused. Marshall nodded impatiently, and Mike pulled out what was inside.

A photo. Mike took one glance at it, and his look of utter shock would have been amusing, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

The picture showed a bed, and curled up on it, Mike and Kate. They were both still dressed, and Kate's hair was bound in its daytime braid – Mike instantly knew it was a snapshot from the previous night. They'd gone to the pub with the rest of the crew after work, and been too tired to change before going to sleep. His mind sped up, looking for some way of denying solid evidence.

"Is this is a joke?" he asked. Marshall raised an eyebrow, as if to say – photographs don't lie. _This is the twenty first century_, Mike thought. _Of course they do_. "It must have been photoshopped..."

Marshall nodded slowly. "Except, this isn't a print out. Digital photos require a printer, which wouldn't give this quality and it would be on paper, not glossy photographic –"

"It costs thirty five cents at your local K-Mart," Mike pointed out. "Take in either the camera, a memory card, or a CD..."

Kate reached over and grabbed the photo. So far, Mike had angled it away from her, and now she wanted to know what was causing his reaction. His gut clenched – so far, he'd been able to act shocked and surprised, but would she be able to? He knew that if she couldn't, they were both stuffed.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. Mike couldn't tell whether she was acting, or if she was just freaked out by what this meant. He forced himself to look away from her.

"So you're not only implying that we're sleeping together, you're saying someone managed to come _inside_ and take a picture of that fact?" Mike asked. He did his best to keep his voice steady, but he couldn't lie to himself – that was _exactly_ what had happened. The conundrum of the morning suddenly made a lot more sense.

Marshall started to sigh, but suddenly, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "True that, Mike..."

_C'mon, Kate_, Mike thought desperately. _We're nearly out... just be cool. Keep yourself together_. Considering the hold this man had over her, and the fear she felt whenever she even thought about him, he wouldn't be surprised if she lost it, knowing that he'd been _watching_ them sleep...

"We're both wearing _clothes_," Kate suddenly pointed out. "Doesn't exactly indicate... you know."

"Alright. I'm inclined to believe you, considering your records... but someone sent this, as either a joke or as an attempt to discredit you – both of you."

Mike hid a sigh of relief. "So, any ideas who sent it?"

Marshall shook his head. "But they timed it right. Nearly everyone here saw it..."

Kate muffled a strangled sound, and Marshall glanced at her. "Of course, I'll be letting them know it's not real..."

"Thankyou, sir," she replied. "But I feel that whoever's trying to make us look like fools may have succeeded."

"It'll pass," Marshall said reassuringly. "How's shore leave?"

Kate shrugged. "Nothing special happening."

"Alright then, I won't keep you any longer."

He shook her hand, and then Mike's. Before they left, Kate held the photo back out towards Marshall. He smiled, and reached for it. Mike's hand suddenly shot out, and he examined it closely.

"Can I keep this?" he asked hopefully. Marshall raised an eyebrow. Kate coughed pointedly.

"Sir!" she muttered. Rolling his eyes, Mike dropped it back onto Marshall's desk.

"Sorry X. Sir."

Finally, they were able to leave – jobs and reputations intact.

***

"So what do you think that was about?" Kate asked as they left Navcom. Mike swallowed.

"We're lucky. Very bloody lucky." She raised an eyebrow incredulously, and he elaborated. "Marshall could have taken that a lot further. Would have been disastrous..."

"I think someone was hoping he would... They obviously don't know him very well. He's content to let grey areas slide."

"Where would that get him? Getting us in trouble?"

"We could have faced disciplinary action..."

"No. Not that..." Mike paused, his expression grim. "We wouldn't be allowed to serve together."

"Why would that worry him?" Kate asked, confused.

"If we were on different boats... we'd have different rosters. Different shore leave. We would hardly ever see each other."

"Divided, weakened," Kate murmured, understanding. Another thought hit her, and she struggled to keep her composure as she spoke. "He wants you out of the way so he can get to me."

"Which is why I stopped you..." he replied softly, referring to her kiss. Suddenly, she understood what she had refused to think about last month – he hadn't pushed her away because he didn't want to be with her; he had pushed her away so that they _could_ be together.

***

"Nate, could something like this be fitted together?" Marshall asked, showing the photo to one of the more computer-agile lieutenants. Nate studied the image. He hadn't seen it himself before now, but the rumours were flying all around Navcom.

"Of course it could..."

"You wouldn't need special software to do it?" asked Marshall hopefully. The harder it was to do, the easier it would be to find out who might have done it.

"Nope. There are programs you can download from the internet that would do it. Don't even need to be that flash with a computer... just really good at details."

Marshall sighed. Maybe he didn't want to know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Staying Silent, part ten – September**

Bright sunlight filtered down onto the boat deck, gently touching the heads of the crew as they watched ET swim back towards the Hammersley. They had found a body, in the water. Kate and Nav were standing on the top deck, looking down curiously.

"Looks like he's been dead awhile," Nav said quietly, as the sailors pulled the man on board. His skin was pocked and broken, and Swain was making a quick evaluation. His voice floated up to the two watching girls; Nav appeared a little disturbed by the discovery, whereas Kate's face was flat and expressionless.

"He's been dead a long time... months, maybe. The water stopped the skin decay, but I'd say the fish have been at him..."

"Not sharks?" Mike asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"No evidence of it. Some of them won't go dead meat. Too much chance of it being poisoned or inedible."

"Any idea what killed him?"

"Pretty obvious..." Swain muttered, rolling over the corpse, until the face and stomach were visible. "He was stabbed..."

One clinical finger followed the rip in the corpse's shirt. It was hard to remember the body had once been human – the eyes were missing. Swain pulled up the fabric, exposing his belly, and Mike's eyes widened with horror. Several of the crew gagged and moved away. Nav leant back, looking away from the scene. Beside her, Kate tensed – but not for the same reason.

A knife wound, through his gut and stretching up towards his ribcage. "Pretty nasty..." Swain said. "He would have been dead before he knew what was happening. Whoever dumped him probably had him weighed down... whatever they used could have worn through, which is why we've found him now."

Mike nodded, and the two men continued discussing what to do, not noticing the X's strange behaviour above them.

Kate was looking down, her throat steadily closing up. Her vision darkened, the shapes below her blurring. She grabbed the railing in a vain attempt to remain standing. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, even though it wasn't hot. She sucked in a breath, her throat closing, and Nav looked at her, concerned.

She was cold. She lifted one trembling hand to her throat, and for a moment heard Nav calling her name. Something touched her shoulder, and fear flashed through her. She wanted to escape, needed to escape.

Nav caught her moments before she hit the ground.

***

"What happened?" the frantic CO asked, racing down the hallway after Swain and Nav.

"We... we were... just standing there, and then she went all stiff, and her eyes rolled up and she collapsed," Nav said, her hands fluttering around her cheeks as she tried to work out what to do. Mike laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, and Swain turned into the wardroom, Kate in his arms, unconscious.

"The shock? Wasn't a pretty sight..." Swain suggested, laying her down carefully, and looking for something to bring her round.

"This is _the X_ we're talking about," Nav remonstrated. Mike was inclined to agree. Just then, Bomber came through the doorway with Swain's kit, already opening it.

"C'mon, X," Swain muttered, checking her pulse. A look of alarm suddenly passed across his face. Bomber passed him some smelling salts, which he waved in front of Kate's face. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, and her eyelids flickered. Mike moved closer, unconsciously shoving Nav out of the way.

He gently stroked the side of her face. "Wake up, Kate," he whispered, and her eyes opened, wide and frightened. A moment later, she rediscovered how to move her limbs. Her arms windmilled for a second, before she grabbed hold of the seat below her and forced herself into a sitting position.

She sucked in several deep breaths, calming as she recognised her surroundings.

"Ma'am? How are you feeling?" Swain asked. She blinked a few times, and looked at him.

"Fine," she muttered, swinging her legs down, and pushing Mike away from her. She tried to stand, wobbled, and fell back down with a thud.

"Not so fine," Swain said with a slight smile. He grabbed a small torch, and indicated he wanted her to tilt her head. She did so, grudgingly, and he shone the light in her eyes a few times, watching as the pupils contracted and dilated.

"How many fingers?" he asked, holding up three.

"Six," she said, sarcasm evident. Swain met her gaze reprovingly, and she shrugged irritably. "Three!"

He heard her mutter something else, but apart from the word 'six' couldn't make out what she was saying.

"What happened?" she asked after a moment. The four people in the room shared a glance, and despite the headache now beating rhythmically in her head, she still managed to glare at them.

"You fainted," Nav said before the X starting snapping. Kate growled something under her breath.

"I got that. Any idea why?"

Mike looked at her, hard, silently instructing her to cool it. She glared back, but he recognised the pain and fear lurking behind the icy wall.

"Any nausea? Dizziness?" Swain asked. She shook her head, wincing slightly at the sharp motion.

"I have a headache," she grumbled. He nodded, fishing out a couple of painkillers.

"That'll pass. But I suggest you take it easy. Maybe it's a virus."

"I'm fine," Kate repeated. Bomber rolled her eyes, then remembered that Kate was a senior officer, and quickly rearranged her expression.

"Okay. Just stay sitting down while you're fine," Swain suggested, his eyes reflecting his humour. Kate snorted.

"What? This isn't weird. People probably often faint for unknown reasons."

Mike gaped at her. "I can't decide which part of that statement is more worrying," he replied. He turned to Swain. "You're sure she's okay? She's saying things like that, she has to be delusional..."

"Yep. Fine enough. Maybe it was the heat."

"What heat?" Nav asked, confused. Bomber winked at her, hiding a smile, and Nav closed her mouth, understanding. "Oh. Well, yes, it was a little hot."

"I don't like heat," Kate agreed, trying to make them all shut up. Her head ached, and the gaudy fluorescent lights were not helping.

"Maybe you should get some sleep, X," Mike said, and she nodded.

"Sleep sounds good," she said. There was silence for a moment, and no-one moved. Kate looked at Mike.

"You want to give me a hand?" she asked sarcastically. He smirked, and offered one hand. Swain, Nav, and Bomber moved aside as Mike led the way out, Kate using him as a support. The girls shared a look, not missing how easily the pair coordinated their movement.

None of them, however, saw or heard Kate whispering to Mike, "I need to talk to you."

***

"You okay?" he asked, once they were safely in her cabin. She sat down, her head falling helplessly into her hands. He went to turn on the light, but she waved a hand at him, and he realised that her headache was getting worse.

"The body," Kate said, launching straight into an explanation. Mike sat down beside her, concerned.

"You knew him?" he asked softly.

"No. But I saw him die."

Mike's mouth opened slightly with shock. One arm moved to wrap around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off.

"Of all the ships in the sea... why us? Why did we have to find him?" she asked miserably. He shook his head slightly, not knowing what to say.

"He's the one you..." he began, but broke off.

"Oh, I don't know," Kate said, her voice once again caustic. "I've witnessed so many murders, it's getting hard to keep them all straight!"

"Calm down," Mike replied. She lifted her head and looked at him steadily.

"Think, Mike! We have to hand this body over to the Feds. They're going to start digging, and who knows what they'll find?"

Mike sighed, understanding. That was one problem – and there was another. If Kate's stalker got wind of what they had found, Mike wasn't sure what he would do. Maybe he'd get scared, kill them both before they had a chance to say anything. Or, maybe he would flee. It might get him out of their lives for good.

_Nice try_, he told himself. _We're not that lucky._

Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Kate pushed weakly at Mike's side.

"I'm going to sleep," she mumbled. He nodded, standing up.

"Call if you need anything," he instructed her, heading for the door.

His chest tightened as he watched her lie down. He knew he had to protect her – and himself – but the real question was: how?


	11. Chapter 11

**Staying Silent, part eleven – September**

He waited. He was good at waiting. It could take a few minutes, but he was perfectly happy to stand in the darkness until the image came out, clear and faultless. He removed it from the solution, carefully pegging it up. He had his first look at it, in the eerie red light.

Her face, so perfect. He continued waiting. When the picture was dry, he carefully unclipped it, and took it away from the dark room, towards the rear wall of his thread-bare apartment. He slipped the photo behind two clips, which would hold it up without damaging it.

His gaze roved over his collection. Yes, he thought, his lips twitching, she was his now.

A beep sounded, and he looked down at his watch. _Midday already_, he thought with surprise. Nowadays, he had to set the alarm on his watch, because otherwise he was liable to stand here all day looking at his photos, and forget to go to work.

Forcing himself to turn away, he carefully retrieved his camera, scowling as he saw a scratch across one lens. He would have to get a new one. And to do that, he needed money.

_If you want more pictures of Kate, you need more money. Go to work, get money._ He found work so... uninspiring. He was an artist. He didn't want to have to deal with the usual crap from his co-workers. He had found in the past that by rewarding himself with thoughts of _her_ meant he could get through the day much easier.

_Work, money, pictures, Kate,_ he thought, and left the apartment. He didn't lock it. There was no point. Nothing inside was worth stealing. Apart from the photos, a few microwave meals, and some of his camera equipment, there was nothing in there.

***

Kate yawned. She was tired, shockingly tired. After the events of last week, she had been having trouble sleeping. For the first time, actual _guilt_ was gnawing at her.

A man was dead, and she had seen him die. Should she tell someone what she knew? Could she? Was it worth risking her life to bring justice to a man who wouldn't even see it? What about his family? Did they even know he was dead?

She shivered. She was filled with uncertainty. There was a knock on the front door, and she looked up warily.

"It's me," Mike called, and she smiled, making her way up the hall. He knew her reaction to unexpected visitors. He could have called, but she was also phone-shy. Though, for the past few days, there hadn't been a single noise from her landline. Kate was surprised – maybe her stalker didn't know she had shore leave. She doubted it. So far, he knew everything about her – when she was at work, when she was at home, and what she was doing at home.

Which left only one option – he didn't know about the body they had found, or if he did, he didn't realise it was his own victim.

"Report came out today," Mike said as way of greeting, holding up a newspaper. She frowned at it, moving aside so he could enter. She didn't bother to scan the street outside. Either he was there, or he wasn't. She knew she wouldn't see him.

"Pictures?" she asked, looking nervously at the front page.

"Nope. CGI face reconstruction. Couldn't shock the public with photos of what we saw. The crew could barely handle it, and we see more than our fair share of corpses."

Kate studied the picture, then flung it onto the table in disgust. She dropped into a chair, and shook her head.

"It's not him."

"What?" Mike asked, confused. The picture on the front page, while computerised and flat, looked pretty similar to the body he had seen.

"The water must have done things to his face," Kate said. "It should be thinner than in that picture. And his eyebrows were thicker, much thicker. His chin was more rounded."

"You sure?" Mike checked, looking from the picture to the unhappy expression on her face. She glanced up at him, her eyes burning.

"Of course I'm sure. I know what – who – I saw. That's the problem, remember?"

"Yeah... okay. Water distortion – they should have considered that."

"This picture's useless. Worse, it's misleading."

"What? You want to tell the police that?" Mike asked, stunned. Kate hesitated.

"He was... just a guy before. Now, he's a dead body, and they don't know who he is, and with that picture, they're not going to find out. He could have a family looking for him... kids, even. And they could look at this and turn the page."

Mike swallowed, sitting down beside her. "You're having second thoughts about staying silent," he said flatly. She looked up at him, and he quailed at the raw fear in her eyes.

"It's not just us anymore," she said pleadingly. "It was different before."

"So... you want to..."

"No, Mike. I _do not_ want to say anything. I don't want to risk pissing this guy off. I don't want to have to remember what happened. I'm just thinking that morally, I _should_."

"So... you... are going to..." he trailed off, bending his head to meet her eyes. She turned away.

"No. I'm not saying anything. Maybe this will be enough. Or maybe they'll figure out its useless and put an actual picture in."

Mike nodded. "It's up to you," he reassured her. He felt it was an empty comfort.

The silence dragged on, Mike not knowing what to say, Kate wondering how to express what she was feeling. Eventually, she sighed, and he waited, guessing she had something she wanted to get off her chest.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I just... don't feel safe anymore. Ever. Except while we're out at sea, and that's because we're completely cut off from any contact with this guy."

His chest tightened. Ever since the incident with Marshall and the photo, they had tried to avoid contact on shore leave, never knowing when someone might take a happy-snap. As such, they each returned to their own homes, keeping contact through the phone, and through 'work-related' conversations, like this one.

But at night, she found herself twitching at every shadow, and quivering fearfully at every sound. The house seemed too empty without him there. She wasn't sleeping properly, and as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, guilt was only a part of the problem. But the consequences of being caught with him would mean one of them leaving the Hammersley, and probably not seeing each other for months at a time.

"What if we buy a house boat? Run off to sea, away from stalkers, murderers, and Marshall," Mike suggested teasingly. Kate laughed, her mood brightening just a little. Then she fell silent, and after a pause, turned to him sombrely.

"Would you?" she asked. He baulked.

"Well... maybe. I didn't mean... just that..."

Her smile returned as she watched him bluster. Realising she was toying with him, Mike sighed. It would by idyllic.

"Just you, me, and the sea," he said, and the idea was tempting. But they both knew it was impractical, and surrendered to the bite of reality. She stared at the table beneath her elbows, looking lonely and lost.

As he watched her, he felt a twist, somewhere between his chest and his gut. He saw her hair, unkempt and wisping over her face, and he wanted to brush it away. He saw the shadows under her eyes, the tiredness looming over her, and he wanted to take her in his arms and let her sleep, safe for once. His gaze brushed past the hunch in her shoulders, and he knew he needed to fix this. Somehow.

She suddenly looked up, meeting his eyes. The feeling intensified, a crushing ache somewhere near his sternum, so strong that it brought tears to his eyes. It hurt, and yet he yearned for more.

"What?" she asked, confused by his sudden stillness. He licked his lips nervously.

"Nothing," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. She wasn't just beautiful. She was perfect. Strong as an ox at times, and at others, fragile and desperate. She was self-reliant, but could still make him feel needed, wanted, lo–

"What is it?" she asked, reaching a hand forward, her thumb touching his cheek. His breath caught, and his chest tightened even further.

"I... Kate, I... nothing."

"Say it," she demanded, frowning as his eyes lowered shamefully. She cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"I think I love you," he whispered. She gazed at him steadily, and he realised that their breaths were out of phase – the air she was inhaling had just come from his lungs, and vice versa. He could see a passion and desire in her face that hadn't been there a minute ago, along with a deep tenderness.

And fear.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, trying to look away, but she continued to hold him.

"Don't leave," she begged, and he blinked in surprise.

"Why would I –"

"Because last time..." she began, biting her lip gently, before sucking in a shaky breath and continuing. "Last time, you fell in love with me, and then you left."

He inhaled sharply. How had she known that?

"I saw you, I saw how scared you were... and I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything to help you, and then you left," she explained. "I'm a woman. We can sense these things."

A tear tickled the corner of his eye, and he wasn't worried about her seeing it.

"I didn't know what it would mean for us... if it got any deeper, if someone found out..."

"I know. And you had taken a posting, so we wouldn't even be together... but, Mike..." She met his eyes again. "Don't do it again. Don't get into something you can't handle. Because I can't deal with you running again."

"I won't," he whispered. Her eyes flickered, as she searched for the emotion behind it. He clasped her hands. "I regretted it, I always regretted it... I hated myself. And then... I thought you must have moved on."

"I could never move on," she replied, her lips now only an inch from his. Their gazes met, and she moved away.

"The only way we can be together is if we're not together," she said sadly. He nodded.

"I could take a shore posting..."

"No. You hate them, remember?"

Mike sighed bitterly, but nodded. "The houseboat is sounding pretty good, right now, isn't it?" he said, and she smiled coyly.

"But still impossible."

For a moment, there was silence.

"But I promise, I will do whatever I have to, to protect you," he said. She swallowed.

"Thankyou," she whispered. She looked at him levelly. "I think I love you, too," she added, and he grinned, but the moment was cut short.

The phone rang.


	12. Chapter 12

**Staying Silent, part twelve – September**

For a moment, Kate stayed completely silent, a nerve in her temple twitching with each joyous ring. Suddenly, she jumped up, grabbed the power cord, and wrenched it free, and then threw the entire set down the hall. It banged loudly on the floor, bounced twice, and came to rest outside her bedroom door.

Trembling with a cocktail of emotions, Kate glared after the phone.

"We were having a moment!" she yelled at it. It lay still and quiet on the carpet.

She then turned around, and flopped back into her seat. She glanced up at Mike. He was staring at her, mouth slightly open.

"You don't have an 'ignore' button?" he asked, still gaping. She scowled.

"Half the time it's _him_, and the other half it's some guy trying to get me to switch phone plan or asking me to fill in a survey." Kate's voice twisted to imitate an Indian accent. "Hello, you win big prize! But before you claim big prize, you must answer questions!"

"Calm down," Mike said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sighed. Just then, her mobile started ringing, and she pulled it out of her pocket, glancing at the screen.

"It's Marshall," she said impassively. Mike grinned, and checked his own mobile was on silent.

"Dare you to tell him he interrupted something," he said. Kate fought to stop herself from laughing, and answered.

***

"I'm suddenly subconscious about having my picture taken," Kate muttered. "Whose idea was this?"

"We're the only patrol boat in the area that isn't tasked at the moment," Mike said placatingly.

"I know _that_," Kate said. "But still. I do not want to have to deal with reporters. Or photographers."

"Marshall wants to show us off to the world."

"Oh _goody_," Kate said sarcastically. Three days ago, this hadn't seemed like such a problem. Today it was.

Being told that a newspaper group was going to be touring the boat wasn't the only thing Kate was worried about. She had hopped into a cab half an hour ago, and instantly frozen. The thin build and dark hair of the cabdriver had convinced her it was _him_. Only when he had spoken, asking where she wanted to go, had she realised it wasn't the same man, and been able to stutter out an address.

It wasn't the first time it had happened. Kate now had shivers running down her spine every time she went out in public, as the feeling of being watched intensified and weakened, depending on where she was, and who she was with.

Today, it was at an all time high, and she was trying not to let on to Mike just how paranoid she had become, or how much this was bothering her. She didn't want her picture taken. She didn't want a photographer _looking_ at her. She didn't want _anyone_ to look at her. She wanted to get back home, and hide somewhere that didn't have windows or phones.

She was mentally exhausted. Shore leave was supposed to be a time for rest and relaxation. It gave her neither.

"This'll be them," Mike said, drawing her mind back to the present. A dark blue sedan with tinted windows was pulling up.

"Guided tour," Kate muttered again. Mike glanced at her, and his lips twitched.

"And then they'll take pictures of us... you don't reckon Marshall has a sense of humour, do you?"

Before she could answer, four people jumped out of the car. Two of them had laptop satchels strapped to their shoulders, and the other two quickly ran around to the boot of the car, and started unloading cameras. Kate drew in a deep breath, noticing that two of the men were tall and thin. The last thing she needed was to lose it in front of bloody reporters.

_That would make an interesting headline_, she thought to herself. _Crazy woman guarding international border..._

"Richard King, Cairns Daily," said the first journalist, shaking Mike's hand, and then Kate's. She struggled to plaster a smile on her face, as images flashed in front of her mind. A man, pushing her backwards, holding a knife to her throat, his face shrouded but his voice hissing into her ear...

"Lieutenant Commander Mike Flynn, and this is my Executive Officer, Lieutenant Kate McGregor."

Kate breathed in as calmly as she could. Of course it wasn't him. She knew that. But lack of sleep and lingering tension were digging at her, had been all week, and today would be another test of her perseverance.

Richard introduced the other reporter as Steve Hammond, and the two cameramen as Charlie Dale and Lucius Samuels. The latter also sent shivers down Kate's spine, and she bit her lip to keep herself steady as she shook his hand. He nodded, the vestiges of a smile tainting his lips, but didn't say anything. Neither did Charlie.

"Cameramen," Steve muttered to her as they walked towards the Hammersley. "Don't take it personally. I'm yet to find a sociable one."

He and Richard laughed, while Lucius and Charlie both sneered in reply.

***

"You okay?" Mike murmured softly as they stood in the bridge. Kate glanced at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, just as softly, praying their guests wouldn't hear them.

"You're all twitchy," he replied, and she cursed silently. She had hoped that no-one had noticed it. He continued. "And you're sweating."

"I'm fine," Kate said stiffly. He knew as well as she did that she wasn't, but right now, there was nothing they could do but push through it.

"Just try and keep a handle," he said, one hand brushing her arm. Surrounded by reporters, there was nothing else he could do. "We stuff this up and it'll be Marshall trying to kill you."

She gritted her teeth, and nodded. As well-intentioned as the joke was, it just accentuated the twisted feeling in her gut. The photographers both had state-of-the-art cameras, with more dials and buttons than any normal person would know what to do with, and were snapping hundreds of shots of the interior of the ship. They also took as many shots as possible of both Kate and Mike. Kate wondered how they could possible afford to develop that many.

The ordeal lasted hours, the reporters firing quick-answer questions at the officers, scribbling down answers and occasionally random notes about the ship. Finally, the foursome looked at each other and nodded. A few handshakes later, they were climbing back into their car, Richard and Steve waving cheerfully.

Charlie ignored them, focusing on carefully repacking his cameras. Lucius looked back once, his gaze settling on Kate for a minute, and again, the ghost of a smile crossed his features. It was not a pleasant smile. She shivered, wanting to look away, but knowing it would be impolite to do so.

When the group finally left, Kate sucked in a deep breath, like a diver coming up for air after a hour underwater. But it didn't displace the quiet quivering sensation in her gut.

***

The problem, Lucius decided, was that when you forced an artist to attempt to create something on a subject they didn't like, it ended up as a pile of crap. But these! These were works of art, truly magnificent.

He knew a lot about people. And the most important rule was that when trying to achieve something, you didn't do it yourself. Which was why he had asked Richard to suggest a piece on the Navy to the Cairns Daily's editor. Coming from their top journo, the idea had been an instant success.

It had been a gamble, of course – there was no guarantees that Lucius would get the job – but he knew he was the best photographer there, even if he was only a free-lancer. Maybe Richard had been thoughtful enough to suggest him. They had worked together before, and even though Richard was a complete arsehole, their combined articles often appeared on the front page. Fate had been on his side – he had returned from getting his new lens to have Richard tell him they were going out.

And while a few hours of the blended humour of Richard King and Steve Hammond had been agony, Lucius knew now that it had been worth it.

Photos. Hundreds of them. He had arrived home and gone straight to his dark room, and now began sorting the images. There was the ones of Mike – he set them aside in a pile. The ones with Kate in them he began to lay out, next to each other in more than a dozen rows. The ones of the ship he also lay out, but to one side.

His gaze lifted to the back wall of his apartment. Kate. Everything was Kate. He smiled blissfully, and closed his eyes.

And then snapped them open, and began to critically analyse his new pictures. No, no, these weren't art. They were photographs, good ones, but the subject was flawed. She looked pale and sick. There was no life, no fear.

With a bellow of rage, he used one arm to scatter the collection, and then began ripping at every photo in sight. Soon enough, he stopped, reminding himself harshly that he still needed some of these for work. Scowling, he stood up, grabbed his camera and car keys, and headed for the door.

He needed pictures, better pictures. And he would just keep shooting until he got them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Staying Silent, part thirteen – October**

Kate moaned, hearing the footsteps coming closer. She looked around for a weapon, but what sane person kept a defensive weapon in their bedroom? Of course, she was starting to believe she had crossed that line a long time ago, and was now standing on the wrong side of crazy.

_Where's my phone?_ she thought desperately. Her landline was still disconnected. Her mobile... she bit her lip, realising it was still in the kitchen. She couldn't get to it.

_Someone is in the house... and you know who, Kate,_ she told herself, trying to swallow but finding her mouth dry.

She backed away from the bed, her eyes flicking between the door and the window. If she broke it, could she get out? Not without alerting him to her plan... but from the occasional creak of the floorboards in the hall, she knew he was too close for her to run to the front door. He was moving slowly. He didn't realise she was awake, that she already knew he was coming.

Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and the air around her was growing steadily thicker. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe. It was an unusually cold spring night, but she knew that wasn't the reason she was shivering.

_He's coming, Kate... he's coming to kill you. You broke your promise, you told, now he's coming to kill you. You broke your promise, but he'll keep his..._

Panic flooded her system. She knew hand-to-hand combat, but he would have his knife, or maybe a gun.

There was a thud, right next to her, and she spun, ready to face her attacker head on. Something grabbed her shoulder, and she twisted desperately, and finally pulled free of the nightmare.

"X? You okay?" asked Nav nervously, her eyes wide. Kate blinked, focusing on the rack above her, the bright fluorescent light to her left humming brazenly.

"The nightmare again?" Nav asked, giving Kate's shoulder a slight squeeze. It was all Kate could do to nod, dropping back onto her pillow, more exhausted now than she had been when she'd gone to bed.

"Did I wake you?" Kate asked, suddenly feeling guilty. Nav shook her head, smiling slightly.

"No, I just came off watch." Sensing the X's next question, Nav answered. "It's about half-three. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, thanks," Kate muttered, rolling over. She wanted to scream with frustration. She'd had the same – or a very similar – dream every single night for the past week. And it wasn't a quiet dream, either – she'd woken Nav several times, but her friend had never complained.

In fact, Nikki was quite worried. Kate's sleeping hours were already disjointed, thanks to the watch rotations, and to lose any of the sleep time allowed was almost torture. A few days had seen Kate lose some of her natural spark. A week left her barely able to think. She now ran through procedures and protocol in a daze, surviving minute after minute in order to re-face the monster dream every time she tried to rest.

Nav's greatest worry was what would happen if the X's exhaustion interfered with a boarding. She made a mental note to talk to Kate about it in the morning, though she didn't know how successful she would be – she'd suggested Kate talk to Swain, or even a proper doctor, and maybe take something to help her sleep, but Kate had vehemently refused, muttering something about not wanting to lower her defences.

Kate wouldn't tell her what the happened in the nightmares, either, even after Nikki had called her pathetic excuse of "I don't remember" for the lie that it was.

Kate just wished that she could forget – not just the dreams, but the memory.

***

"Hey, superstar!" ET called, waving something over his head. Kate tried to focus on it, but the room kept blurring. She rested one hand on the chair next to her, hoping her disorientation didn't show, and managed to make out a piece of paper... no, a magazine. Somehow, she'd been tricked into agreeing to a night at the pub, but all she really wanted to do was sleep – not that she'd get much, so she might as well be here.

"Article's out," said Mike, appearing at her side. "Heads up."

Kate hesitated, and then took the magazine ET was thrusting towards her. Cautiously, she skimmed over the article. Her gaze rested for a moment on the photo of her and Mike in front of the Hammersley. Her hair was tightly braided, and even though it was just paper, her eyes seemed to be burning.

"Nice picture," ET said. Kate smiled stiffly and nodded, the movement causing a headache to take up residence behind her left eye. Not wanting to add to her misery with alcohol, she ordered an iced tea, and sat down slightly apart from the noisy sailors.

As the night wore on, she felt herself losing clarity. Her vision was now permanently blurred, and she remained sitting down, knowing that to stand would ultimately result in her hitting the floor. She was intentionally keeping herself awake, hoping that if she was utterly, completely exhausted, she might sleep too deeply for dreams.

"You okay?" asked a voice next to her ear, and she was able to make out Mike, sitting down beside her.

"Yeah. Just tired," she replied truthfully. He frowned, and grabbed her hand under the table.

"Sure?" he continued, his eyes searching hers. It hadn't been a busy week – how had he not noticed her condition deteriorating?

"Yeah."

Not able to sense an outright lie, Mike squeezed her hand and stood up.

***

"Is she all right?" asked Nav, coming up behind Mike as he ordered another drink. He tilted his head questioningly, and she shrugged. "She seems a little out of it."

"Just tired. It's been a long week," Mike said vaguely. The last thing he wanted was to draw Nikki into the messed up world he'd let himself and Kate get sucked into.

"Yeah, she's probably tired..." Nav said, but didn't elaborate. She stood next to Mike uneasily, like she wanted to tell him something but wasn't sure what.

"Something up, Nav?" he asked, and she sighed. He sat down, jerking his head to indicate she follow suit.

"I've just been wondering... some stuff. I mean, I know I shouldn't, but it's just..."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, Nav. We're off duty, relax."

Nav sighed, before hesitantly meeting his eyes. "You don't suppose... she could be pregnant, do you?"

Mike nearly dropped his glass. He put it down on the table beside him as he coughed hard, having swallowed a mouthful of beer backwards. Nav was caught between laughing and worrying, and hovered by his side anxiously until he recovered, staring at her in astonishment.

"I know, it's really unlikely, but just, she's been having trouble sleeping lately, and she keeps getting nightmares, and she always looks so sick, and tired... and kind of hormonal... and..."

Nav stopped, breathless, wondering if she should have said that. She suddenly felt less like a concerned friend and more like a gossiping cabin mate.

"Forget it," she mumbled, turning to go back to the group. "I didn't say anything."

"Wait, Nav," Mike called. "What did you mean by nightmares?"

"Oh, just... she's been having a lot. Every night. She won't tell me what they're about, but they look pretty bad... talking in her sleep and stuff."

"How long have they been going on?"

"About a week. She woke me up a few times."

"She never said anything to me," Mike muttered. He had a fairly good idea what was causing the dreams.

"Why would she tell you?" Nav asked, confused. Mike nearly hit himself. Yes, why _would_ the X tell him she was having nightmares?

"It's no wonder she looks tired. Her job requires her to make quick, rational decisions. If she can't do that..."

"What are you going to do?"

Mike sighed. "I don't know. Talk to her, see if I can find out what's wrong." He cast Nav an amused glance. "I don't think she's pregnant, though."

***

He waited outside. The night was warm, but he felt uneasy. The familiar, comforting weight of his camera was missing – today wasn't about pictures.

He tried to remember how long it had been since he had heard her voice... she'd done something to her phone, and every time he tried her number it would ring out. He felt like a heroin addict in withdrawal. He hadn't been close to her for so long. He had fantasies of touching her, and dreams of killing her.

He took a deep breath, and climbed out of the car. He had a plan for tonight. He slipped around the back of the house, somehow managing to walk across leaves and sticks without making a noise. The back door was locked, and so was the steel meshed screen door. He smiled softly, and carefully ripped along the side of the screen door. He reached two fingers through and unlocked it.

For the main door, he used two thin pieces of metal, one straight, the other an L-shape. The silence around him worked to his advantage, and after a moment, he heard a slick click, and the lock rotated clockwise. Once inside, he took stock.

He had never been here before, and he set to memorising the layout of the house; a precaution in case he ever came back. He didn't think he would need to, but he prided his motto – be prepared for anything, and don't get cocky.

He was looking for one item in particular, and he had a good idea where it would be. He crept towards the bedroom. The occupant would probably be fast asleep, but he went cautiously anyway.

He also knew to use whatever he had at his disposal to his advantage – there was a mirror outside the bedroom, the outside decorated with stickers of flowers and gum leaves, and he used it to look inside before actually entering the room.

The woman was asleep, and he relaxed slightly. She didn't look anything like Kate, so for the most part, he ignored her. It always amused him, to think of how a person could sleep so quietly when a killer was perusing their possessions, only a metre or two away, and chances were, they would never even know.

It wasn't on the bedside table, or the dresser, or charging... he frowned. Then, his gaze locked on a pair of dark blue pants, the same ones she had been wearing that night. He carefully slipped two fingers into the left pocket. Nothing. He did the same to the right pocket, and smiled to himself, withdrawing a mobile phone.

It was already on, and so all he had to do was flip through the contacts list, looking for a specific number.

_You're trying to hide from me, Kate? Bad news. You can't._

She was at the very bottom of the list – XO KMG. He opened the contact details, his eyes going first to _mob. no._ He slipped a pen from his pocket, and carefully copied the number onto his hand. His use of the pen was awkward, and he gripped it too tightly to have any flair with his writing, but the numbers were legible.

He cast a quick glance at the sleeping figure behind him, and suppressed a chuckle. He replaced the mobile in its previous position, exactly where he had found it, and left the room. On his way out, he relocked the back door. The only indication anyone had ever been there was the slight tear in the mesh on the screen door – and it was a tiny hole. She might not notice it for months, and even then, it could have been caused by anything from a stick blown by a harsh wind, to an adventurous possum.

Once inside his car again, he let loose a mad laugh. He knew he sounded crazy, and he knew that to a small extent, he might be. But he knew exactly where he was, and exactly what he was doing.

He pulled his own mobile phone from the back seat. Taking it inside would be begging someone to call him, and blow his cover. Before the ink faded, he copied the number from his hand into a new contact, and as a laugh, saved it as 'XO KMG'.

He wondered whether he should call her now. No, he would wait. It seemed very, very funny all of a sudden. She didn't know he had this number. She wouldn't know how he had obtained it. And whatever she did, she wouldn't be able to stop him. Even if she bought a new phone, changed her number, it would only take him twenty minutes to find out what it was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Staying Silent, part fourteen – October**

Mike pulled Kate down onto the bed beside him, and wrapped his arms around her.

"I... thought we said..." she started to mumble, but he cut her off.

"Just tonight. You need sleep."

"Nikki tell'd you..."

"Yes. Now shut up and get some damn rest."

The fact that she didn't argue told Mike just how tired she was. After talking to Nikki, he had waited a few minutes, then made his way back over to her, and forcefully dragged her out to a cab. Even knowing that they couldn't risk anyone suggesting that something was going on between them, he had made the call to bring her back to his house.

The night was reasonably warm, and instead of pulling up the blankets, they just used their body heat to keep each other warm. As soon as she dropped the resistance act, and let herself lie flush against him, Kate was falling asleep.

Mike wasn't so lucky. For a long time, he held her, awake, listening to her steady breathing and wondering what was keeping him alert.

_You thought she'd moved on?_ he asked himself. _Just because she wasn't breaking into tears every night, you thought she was healing? That was pretty stupid of you._

_Nav noticed... of course, Nav shares a cabin with her. Kate didn't want to tell you, either... why? She didn't think she could trust you? Or the stubborn girl wants to deal with everything on her own? No, it can't be that... she knows you're here... doesn't she?_

The same thoughts ran through his head, over and over, until he was finally able to drift off.

Only to wake as he felt Kate struggling against his hold, trying to push him off. A low moan escaped her parted lips, and Mike tightened his grip on her shoulders, trying to wake her up.

"Kate, Kate, wake up!" he called softly, shaking her slightly. Her eyes flickered, and she moaned again, her hands coming up to shield her face from some unseen demon.

Mike didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to wake her up, and the more he tried to hold her, the harder she struggled. He felt helpless; he had finally found a threat he couldn't fight, one that was immune to his weapons and words.

Suddenly, she jerked upwards, her eyes opening. She was drenched in sweat, and even though her skin was burning, she was trembling as if cold. Her hair was a mess, plastered to her face and neck. Mike whispered soothingly into her ear, pushing the damp blonde locks away, as her wide eyes locked onto his, searching desperately for security.

"Just a dream," he murmured. You're safe, Kate, you're safe... it was just a dream..."

Upon hearing that, she let out a sob, and her rigid posture caved. She fell forward, her head pressed against his chest while his arms remained wrapped around her. She was still shivering, or maybe she was just crying harder.

Her voice muffled, he heard her whisper three words, and hugged her tighter.

"I hate him," she repeated, half despairing, half snarling.

***

_I love her_, Lucius thought dimly, as he emerged from the depths of a dream. _I love her hair, her skin, her breath, her voice, and her fear. Especially her fear._

Goosebumps danced across his skin, and he felt his pulse quiver with delighted excitement. His bed was barely more than a thin mattress with a pillow up one end and an optional blanket available for winter nights, but right now, there was nowhere he would rather be. He looked up, and a mass of photos stared down at him – some taken from afar, some from up close, but in every single one, he had managed to capture her eyes.

His bed was beneath a large window – the only window – and dawn sunlight was streaming inside. He rolled over and sprang to his feet. He had to be up early for a meeting with Richard and Steve... the last thing he wanted to do. Take some photos of mangroves, some rare bird that was under threat of extinction...

And then try out his new number. He shrugged into some clean clothes, trying to think positively about the day – at least there was something to look forward to.

***

"You should have told me," Mike said, carefully depositing a mug of tea on the table in front of Kate's hands. They had both managed to glean a few more hours of sleep before dawn rolled around, but were still tired.

"Why should I have told you?" Kate asked, some of her usual obstinance returning to her.

"Because it was affecting your ability to perform your duties..."

"Oh bull," she cut in. "And what would you have done if I had?"

"I wouldn't have let you on those boarding parties, for a start..."

"Exactly," Kate growled. Mike sighed, sick of her stubbornness.

"Right, well I know now... and if this doesn't stop, you can't continue risking yourself and your team –"

"You're taking my boarding parties?"

"I'll make you take a bloody leave of absence if you keep arguing about it," Mike snapped. Kate's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You wouldn't..."

"If I don't, and something happens, the entire Navy will know what's been happening, and not only will you be in trouble, so will I, for not looking out for the wellbeing of my officers."

"Bull," Kate repeated. Mike raised an eyebrow, and to avoid the moment, she chugged down half her tea, trying not to wince as she scalded her tongue.

Eventually, she sighed softly, putting the mug down.

"So what do we do?" she asked. He considered.

"Do you think it would help if we –"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Mike spluttered.

"You were going to suggest we go to the police," she stated flatly. He didn't deny it, and she snorted. "We went over that, remember?"

"Times change..."

"Well, some things don't. I'll tell you a few," Kate snapped. "He's following me. He knows where I live and where I work. If I tell anyone, he'll kill me, and them. If I threaten to tell anyone, he'll kill me."

"You face armed hostiles nearly every day," Mike pointed out. "Why is this different?"

Kate clicked her tongue. "I don't know. It just... is."

"How do you know you won't feel safer when they lock him up?"

"How do you know they will?" she asked. "Apart from my word, what evidence is there he killed someone?"

"The dead body?"

"A corpse we pulled out of the ocean, several months dead with no identification."

"The photos he sent you? The phone calls?"

"That doesn't prove he killed someone, that's just... hell, they can't link him to those, and –"

"Calm down," Mike whispered, reaching over and grabbing her hand. Her bottom lip was quivering slightly.

"I'm calm," she lied. He sighed. "You know what else?" she continued, as he released her hand, watching her carefully. "If we told someone now, we'd probably get in trouble for keeping it secret this long."

"No," Mike objected sharply, and she started. He swallowed. "We have the photos. Remember that. It's clearly a case of witness intimidation."

Kate exhaled slowly. "I just... feel..." She paused, and Mike allowed her a moment to gather her thoughts. He knew how hard it was to convert her uncertainties and emotions into words.

"I feel like I've been living on borrowed time," she said softly and slowly. Mike felt fear grip him.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, trying not to show how her words had unnerved him.

"I don't know," she growled, exasperated. "Forget it."

"Hell no," he replied sharply. "You don't say that and then tell me to forget it."

For a second, it looked like they were seconds away from another argument – Mike hastily corrected himself.

"Kate, I'm just worried. And when you say that... I just worry more."

Her lips twitched – almost a smile, but the dark shadows under her eyes and the haunted look dancing across her face quickly brought Mike back to reality.

"It just feels like... I don't know. In April... I nearly died. I wasn't working, I wasn't expecting anything like that to happen... maybe that's what's different."

She pondered this for a moment. In the Navy, she had to willingly risk her life most days of the week... Shore leave was the only time she had to herself, the only time to pursue her own interests. It was the one time she was supposed to be safe.

"And?" Mike prompted, and she licked her lips, searching for the right words.

"He could have killed me, but didn't. And I just... I think that sooner or later, he's going to change his mind, and try again."

Mike's jaw tightened, as he restrained himself from saying something cliché and utterly unrealistic.

"And what do I do when he does?" she asked softly. She was no longer worried about him seeing the fear dancing behind her eyes. With each layer that was ripped away from her soul, he was able to see another scar, and it sparked in him a protective desire so strong, it hurt.

"Next time, I'll be there," he whispered. He tried to continue, but his throat was threatening to close, and so he just nodded stoically.

_Damn it_, he told himself. _You need to be strong, be strong for her!_

"I can't stop thinking about it," Kate admitted. For a moment, Mike was confused. She saw his expression, and elaborated. "About dying. I keep having dreams, I keep remembering..."

"Don't," Mike hissed, moving around to sit at the chair next to her. "Just... you're going to be okay. We'll figure out a way to sort this mess out."

Kate leaned against his shoulder, and looked up at his grey blue eyes, searching for reassurance – she found it, but it was clouded by tension and uncertainty. "I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you," she murmured. He stiffened slightly, and again, her lips twitched towards a smile. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do either."

She tried to snuggle up to his chest, but the two adjacent seats made things difficult.

"I'm tired," she said. "And your table isn't very comfortable."

Without any further discussion, Mike wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her up into the air, kicking over the chairs they had previously occupied.

"Mike," she groaned, rolling her eyes. He carried her to his bedroom, and carefully laid her down.

"Sleep," he suggested. Her eyes pleaded with him. Unable to refuse, he flopped down beside her, and held her close. The exhaustion of the night suddenly caught up with him, and they both slept.

The nightmare did not appear.


	15. Chapter 15

**Staying Silent, part fifteen – November**

Richard King. The Cairns Daily's favourite writer. The winner of the 2008 Australian Journalist of the Year award. The smug, self-appeasing bastard who thought that photographers – especially freelancers – were at the bottom of the newspaper food chain.

Lucius scowled in the direction of Richard's house. He'd come out tonight to watch Kate – but somehow, ended up driving here. Something had brought him here instead, and he was trying to work out what. Instinct.

His mobile gave a slight beep, and he instantly thought of the pathetic whimper he longed to hear again. The phone's battery was dying, and he smiled slightly, the soft light from a nearby street lamp reflecting off his teeth. The rest of his face was in shadow, only the faintest glimmer proving that there was life behind the cold, grey eyes.

He glanced across at Richard's house again. It was after midnight, but the reporter was still awake – at least, there was still a light on in his study. Lucius sat back. Why had he come here?

_Kate's not answering her phone_, he thought with disgust as his mobile beeped again. If he tried to call her, she hung up. If he texted her, she wouldn't open the message. A lot of the time, she simply left it at home. She was nearly always with Mike – and if something work-related came up, he passed the message on.

Of course, when he'd first contacted her by mobile, she'd been terrified – he had a photo of her reaction to prove it. It was one of his favourites. But like any trick, the more often he did it, the less she reacted. She was almost immune to it.

_Richard. Lazy bastard, always wanting to get one over me. Thinks he's so good._

He had two problems. Several, actually, but two main problems. The first was Kate's seeming desensitisation. He needed to scare her, remind her of who she was dealing with. The second problem was Richard. Lucius wanted to show him... something very similar.

_Why was he here?_

He trusted his instincts. They had turned him left off the highway instead of right. They had taken him uphill, instead of down. And brought him to the home of Richard King.

_Kill Richard_, he thought suddenly. Well, that _would_ deal with the second problem, wouldn't it? But there were so many complications... so many things that could go wrong. And Kate... well, she already knew he was a killer. But what if he were to remind her of that?

_Kill Richard. Take photos. Send Kate the photos._

Like the approach of a train, the idea flourished, becoming bigger and more distinct with every passing second.

He grabbed his camera from the passenger seat, pulled his knife out of the glove box, and opened the car door.

***

They only had two days off before they'd be heading back out to sea, and Kate was glad. The nightmare was only appearing sporadically, and her reflexes were back to normal. Even though she was still tired, however, she hadn't been able to get out of a night at the pub.

The gaudy Christmas lights around the room were giving her a headache. A giant plastic tree was situated in one corner, baubles and tinsel cheerily wrapped around it.

"It's not even December yet!" she growled, and Nikki glanced over at her. She gestured at the tree, and repeated her complaint. Nikki shrugged.

"Get into the party spirit," she suggested, smiling happily. Her gaze was suddenly caught by something on the TV in the corner. "Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose. Kate looked over.

The news, reporting the death of a young man in his Cairns home. She shivered. Murders were the last thing she wanted to hear about. The camera zoomed in on the house, then flickered to a reporter. Her voice could just be heard above the sound of the patrons in the bar.

"This is Cynthia Valentine for Ten Late News, reporting live from the scene of a grisly murder. Cairns Daily reporter Richard King was found dead this evening –"

Kate suddenly looked up, staring at the screen. Nikki had turned back to her drink, but at Kate's movement glanced back.

"What is it?" she asked. Kate swallowed.

"That's the reporter who came on board the Hammersley," Kate murmured. Nikki frowned.

"The woman?"

"No, the dead man."

Nikki's eyes widened. "Poor guy."

She spun around in her seat again, falling into easy conversation with ET. Kate continued staring at the screen, long after the newsflash ended.

There was a cough beside her, and she turned to see the barman holding out an envelope.

"You Kate McGregor?" he asked, and she nodded. "Guy out the front wanted me to give this to you."

She felt her mouth go dry as she took the envelope, and the barman shuffled off. Nikki, obviously finding a gap in conversation, whirled around again.

"Ooh, who's that from?"

"I don't know," Kate replied. She had a fairly good idea who it was from, but wasn't about to say so.

"Well, open it. Maybe it's a love letter."

Kate fingered the edge, before tucking it into her pocket. "I'll open it later," she said stiffly, and even Nikki couldn't miss the hard note in her voice. She shrugged and turned around. Kate swallowed.

For the next ten minutes, it felt like a burning rod next to her leg. Eventually, she pulled the envelope back out, keeping her back to the rest of the crew. She could feel Mike's eyes on her, but refused to look at him. Some paranoid part of her already knew what was in the present – and yet she was still determined to look.

A photo. She gently eased it out, studied it for a moment, and then replaced it. For an instant, she felt her stomach churning as she connected the picture to the newsflash. Then she realised there was something else inside – a piece of paper. She pulled it out, unfolded it. It was written either in blood, or a thick red ink. Kate shivered, already able to guess which was more likely.

_Answer your phone or someone else dies._

She folded up the note, and slipped it back inside the envelope. When she turned back to the table and her half finished drink, she could again feel Mike watching her. Her eyes flickered towards him, and she attempted to smile. Nothing he needed to worry about. Not in public, at least.

Still, he continued to watch her. She took a sip of beer, and almost spat it back out. She suddenly couldn't stand the taste. Everything smelt like blood.

She closed her eyes, feeling her pulse bounce erratically. Her chest tightened, and she slid out of her chair, and headed for the door. It was no surprise that Mike jumped up and followed her.

"You alright?" he asked as soon as they were outside. She shrugged.

"I've already got one stalker, Mike, I don't need another."

"What was in it?"

"Photos," she replied stiffly, refusing to elaborate. He trailed after her as she headed for her car.

"Should you be driving?" he asked, and she scowled.

"I'm not drunk," she muttered, climbing into the car. She slammed the door, but didn't go to start the engine; just sat there in silence. "You coming?" she asked, and he nodded, climbing into the passenger seat.

Her mobile suddenly warbled, and her fingers clenched around the car key. She let it ring, gently sliding the key into the ignition.

"You going to answer that?" Mike asked softly. She shook her head.

"It's gone on for too long," she said. He frowned, not understanding. "This is the only way of ending it. I am not going to let him intimidate me anymore."

"Is that wise?"

"Probably not. I don't care. I don't care what he does, because I am not going to live in fear the rest of my life."

Mike exhaled slowly as she started the car. The phone stopped ringing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Staying Silent, part sixteen – December**

Lucius was not happy. He was outside Kate's place, but the gaudy, flashing lights decorating the house opposite hers were lighting up the inside of his car in a way he found nauseating.

Just as irritating, there was a spider attempting to use the passenger seat of his car as a new home. He growled softly to himself, grabbed the arachnid by one leg, and chucked it out the door.

He scowled at the house opposite him. There was a light on inside, but he couldn't see anything else. There was no longer any satisfaction to be gained from sitting here. He wanted to be close to her, to hurt her – or at the very least, hear her fear over the phone.

Pulling his mobile out, he held his breath as he dialled, desperately hoping she would answer. Somehow, she had seized control of the situation, and he couldn't let that slide. He would threaten her, scare her... pull her back into line.

Six rings. Voicemail.

Lucius threw his mobile into the backseat, swearing. He'd warned her, and given her two weeks to change her mind. Maybe she hadn't believed his threat?

Well, he'd have to do something about that.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to stop himself from punching out the window. Blood began to pound through his head and he felt his heart rate increasing. Slowly, his vision darkened, the colours twisting, until everything was tinted red.

He would go to Mike's place. Easy to get into, and the captain would be alone. He had his knife, and his camera. The latter would stay in the car.

Unlike his plan for murdering Richard, this idea held no simple beauty. It was flawed, ugly, like some of the pictures his job forced him to take. But there was a desperation to his movement as he started the car, and travelled along the route that he knew off by heart.

Killing Mike was something he had dreamed about for months. He didn't know what would be more satisfying – seeing the light die in Mike's eyes, or the fear in them as Lucius made sure he knew that Kate was completely unprotected.

Lucius believed in making decisions rationally and thinking them through before taking action. Tonight, the Rage was gnawing at his mind, ripping him apart, and he didn't particularly care about making a plan.

He couldn't know that tonight would be the first time in his life that something went wrong.

***

"Did you... climb over the fence?" Mike asked, his eyes wide. Kate nodded, calmly straightening her shirt and stepping inside the back door. He plucked a leaf from her hair, murmuring, "Wow."

"In case he's watching my house," she said, her expression strangely blank.

They had already endured the first of four days of potential shore leave. All the crew were hoping to get Christmas off, especially those with families. That is, all except the two highest ranking officers, who didn't want to spend a moment longer on land than required.

"And you climbed over my back fence..."

"In case he's watching your house," Kate finished. Mike's expression cleared, and he suddenly noticed the slight tremble in her hands that belied her blank expression.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. She tilted her head slightly to one side, one foot moving forward to bring their bodies closer.

"Okay," she replied, and for the first time he saw a flicker of emotion behind her eyes. The fear that had accompanied her for the past eight months was absent, replaced by something akin to lust.

"Kate," he started, realising why she had been so careful not to let anyone see her arrive. She shuffled forward, pressing her body against his. He bit his bottom lip, tried to push her back, but found his arms lacked the strength.

"You know we – can't." His breath hitched on the last word, but his voice was so quiet that if she hadn't been pressed up against him she wouldn't have heard it. She brought her arms up, hooking them around his neck. Mike refused to meet her eyes, and so she waited. The silence lengthened, and eventually he looked down, beaten.

She leaned up, her breath tickling his lips. "I am not vulnerable. I'm not drunk. I know exactly what I want. So please, Mike, don't push me away."

"After everything..."

She refused to let him finish, blocking his next words with her mouth. For a moment, he continued to resist, but then she felt him respond, kissing her back with the ardent desperation of a drowning man looking for air.

But as soon as they broke apart, he was trying to step backwards. "Kate, you know... we can't. You know that."

"Who's going to know?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him. "No-one will know."

Torn, Mike gazed at her. His body yearned to touch her, hold her, but he knew that giving in wouldn't help either of them. Seeing the decision in his eyes, Kate sucked in a deep breath, fighting the feeling of impending tears.

"Please," she whispered. "You don't understand."

"What?"

"He's going to kill me," she forced out. Before he could reply, she ploughed on. "He said he would, and I... I'm really starting not to care."

Her voice wavered, but she refused to break down. "I feel numb. I don't care what he does. What he says. It's all old. It's why I'm not listening to him anymore. I won't obey him. Because he's going to kill me, and maybe sooner would be better than later, because then I get to keep a little bit of dignity..."

Swallowing, she forced away the sob constricting her chest. Mike opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. The resignation in her eyes was crushing him. Lowering her gaze, she continued.

"Please, just... just... I feel dead. I need you... to give me _something_. I want to feel something."

When she glanced back up at him, fearful but determined and greedy, Mike felt the last tether snap, and he dropped his head, kissing her, finally protecting her the way she wanted him to. His hands slipped underneath her shirt, and he wondered at the coolness of her skin on such a warm night.

She started to wrap her leg around his, but he stopped suddenly, pulling away from the kiss.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested, lifting her into his arms and making for the stairs.


	17. Chapter 17

**Staying Silent, part seventeen – December**

Just five minutes into the drive, Lucius felt rage begin to claw at his consciousness. For a few moments, he tried to ignore it and continue towards his destination, but as a red haze took over his vision he knew that to keep driving was suicide. He pulled over, just in time.

A second after he stopped the engine, it consumed him, a fiery cloud of hatred swirling through his mind. Shortly after, he blacked out.

***

The digital numbers of the car clock were invisible in the darkness, creating the sensation that time had stopped. Lucius could still feel the after effects of the rage pounding through his head. The attacks were getting worse. They'd been getting worse ever since he first met Kate. No, he realised, that wasn't quite right; they'd been getting worse ever since she had stopped obeying him, stopped fearing him. Growling to himself, he started the car, more determined than ever to make her pay.

***

He didn't feel happy so much as contented. There was none of the bubbly joy that he had found with Kate the first time they had attempted a relationship. But he wasn't really worried about it. The final barrier between them had been crossed, and as they lay side by side, Mike was aware of their hearts beating in time.

She sighed softly beside him, a sound of perfect completeness and satisfaction.

Followed by another noise.

Mike's eyes snapped open, listening alertly. A second later, it came again. A soft scratching.

An image quickly formed in his mind. The window in the loungeroom opened outwards, and when open, there was a certain tree branch that liked to scratch at the paint.

It was a perfectly normal sound, one he'd woken to on numerous occasions. But tonight was different. Tonight, he'd kept the window shut.

Swallowing slightly, Mike gently eased himself out of bed, and pulled on his discarded clothes. He cast a longing glance at Kate, wondering if he should wake her. But he knew she was still having trouble sleeping, and to see her sleeping peacefully was a rare sight. Hearing a very soft noise down the hall, Mike made up his mind, and made for the door, keeping his own step as quiet as possible.

The carpet absorbed the sound of his tread, and he focused on the noise. Coming from the kitchen.

There was no doubt in his mind as to who was in there, and Mike was thinking that for the first time since this situation had begun, he had an advantage. He was certain there was only one way of finishing this disastrous situation, and he wasn't afraid to take the opportunity if it arose. That thought should have chilled him. Maybe it did. He wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to over-analyse it.

It was a clicking, crackling sound, and he wondered what the intruder was doing. Unarmed, he knew he'd have to use the element of surprise.

He stepped into the kitchen, his concentration wavering as he remembered the passionate kiss he'd shared here just a few hours ago. Forcefully pulling his mind onto the matter at hand, he saw that the kitchen was empty. There was nowhere for someone to hide and, puzzled, he stepped towards the sink.

In the darkness, it took him a moment to realise that the tap was dripping, and the irregular falling droplets were hitting something plastic, creating the noise he'd been hearing.

Adrenaline surged through him, and he spun, lifting one hand even before he saw the knife arcing down towards him. _Diversion_, he realised, furious with himself for being duped. Pain shot through him, and a second later he was able to identify the source; a stinging slash across his chest.

Touching at his shirt, he felt warm blood seeping over his fingers. A second later, he worked out that the cut was shallow, and hardly life threatening. But it had thrown him off balance long enough for the dark figure in front of him to position the knife against his throat.

Trembling slightly, Mike stared forward, unable to see anything of his opponent other than his eyes, which were glinting in the limited light.

"Where's your phone?" hissed a thick, angry voice, and Mike would have backed away from it if he'd been able. As it was, he was pressed up against the sink, completely defenceless. He wouldn't ever have used the word vulnerable to describe himself, but right now, he had a knife pressed against his throat, and no way of fighting back without earning himself a new mouth.

The question was repeated, and the blade sunk deeper into his throat.

_Stall him_, Mike thought, but before he could think of anything to say, the shadow in front of him had snapped another warning.

This brought a new problem to mind. _Kate_.

If she woke up and came looking for him... she would be making herself a target. Something cold and heavy settled in his stomach as Mike realised that the only way to protect her would be to _not_ stall. To offer no resistance to his attacker; to let himself be murdered.

There was no way of fighting back silently, and the slightest noise would wake Kate, as it had him. He was certain the stalker had come here to kill him, probably in retribution for Kate's defiance – but Mike wasn't willing to find out what would happen if his opponent found out his main prey was only metres away. Hurt her? Certainly. Kill her? Maybe.

_Borrowed time_, she had said. Mike repressed a shudder. Either way, he knew he wasn't coming out of this alive. The only unknown was whether Kate would.

_If I'm killed, surely that would be enough to send her to the police?_ he wondered. Maybe it was the proximity to death, or maybe it was just his own hopes making themselves known – he understood on a deep, instinctive level that this was the endgame. He'd crept into his kitchen intending to end it, and now it would.

The brilliantly sharp edge of the knife sunk a millimetre further into his neck, and the wince his last thought had prompted was passed as a reaction to the pain.

"Where's. Your. Phone?" The voice was louder, and Mike swallowed, worried that it would wake Kate.

"On the counter," he whispered, hoping his low tone would be unconsciously mimicked. Keeping the tip of the knife against Mike's throat, the shadow took half a step backwards, turning his head only for a moment to look for the mobile. As he did so, a stray ray of light hit his face, and Mike stared, feeling like he'd been slapped with a wet sock.

_The face was familiar_. Even as he struggled to remember where from, the search for the phone ended and once again the length of the blade was pressed against his throat. He wondered vaguely whether his would-be killer would photograph the scene, as he had taken pictures of so many other things.

His blood chilled suddenly. _Photos. Photographer._ He instantly matched the face to one of the photographers who had come aboard Hammersley. _Surely he wouldn't have been that brazen? And why didn't Kate recognise him? She isn't sure herself of what he actually looks like? Or did she, but not tell me?_

His mind blurred with various scenarios, and he struggled to keep his grip on reality. Shock and fear were causing his mind to retreat, and in attempt to secure it, he forced himself to remember the photographer's name. Charlie? No, that was the other one. Lucas? _Lucius_.

"Not very chatty, are we, Mike?" Lucius asked, and Mike felt a surge of hate flow through him.

"I'm not going to plead with you," he hissed, and made a grab for the knife. He had no doubt what would happen if he gained possession of it.

Instead of struggling for his grip on the blade, Lucius used his free hand to punch his opponent in the face, then sunk the sharp edge of the knife into his neck. Gasping slightly, Mike waited, expecting to feel it cut through his throat at any moment. When it didn't, he tried to evaluate the look in Lucius' darkened eyes.

The anger and hatred remained, but the sharp edge of both had been dulled by something else. Confusion. No, more like puzzlement. Lucius hadn't expected this sort of reaction. He hadn't been sure of fear, but he'd hoped for it, and definitely expected more resistance. If a man knew his choices were death waiting or death fighting, most would choose to fight. It was inconceivable that Mike, the brave captain and Kate's heroic protector, would simply roll over.

The knife remained in place, and Mike could see Lucius thinking, keeping a constant pressure at his throat to stop him from doing anything. _The longer he waits_, he thought anxiously,_ the more chance there is of Kate waking up and coming out. She would see him. She would recognise him – and he knows that she'll no longer keep quiet to save herself._

_Endgame._

Inwardly shuddering at the thought of what he had to do, Mike looked straight into the dark eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice as low as possible. _Whatever happens_, he promised himself_, not a single unnecessary noise_.

"Coward," he continued with a snort, still barely above a whisper but lacing the word with scorn. Nostrils flaring, Lucius stared back. Mike felt a dissonant sense of victory, watching anger build. He remembered how quickly it had stoked on the phone. Soon enough, Lucius would kill him just to shut him up. No killer would linger any longer than necessary on scene, considering the forensics team that would swoop in as soon as the body was found –

Goosebumps rising on his arms, Mike quickly stopped that train of thought. _Die, and win. Or, die and lose. No choice._

"You're all talk, you know that? Big scary knife, but you've never used it. So many chances. You're a coward."

"You want to die?" Lucius snapped, unconsciously lowering his volume to match Mike's whisper. His arm muscles tightened, and the blade dug far enough in to draw blood.

Feeling it trickle down his neck, Mike summoned the last of his courage. "You've got your bag of fancy tricks, but up close, you're _nothing_. Kate's no longer scared of you. I am not scared of you."

Fury lurked beneath the surface, and Mike knew just a little more pressure would finish it.

"Endgame, _Lucius_. You lose."

***

That was more like it! The struggle of the doomed. Lucius smirked, and brought the knife away from Mike's neck, changing his grip on the handle to prepare for the killing blow.

He saw only victory in his victim's eyes. Hesitating for a moment, he searched for another emotion. Fear, hidden under a brave bluff, uncertainty, despair or anger. Any emotion.

_What's going on?_ he wondered, and for a second, caught a brief glitter of _something_, and understood. Mike was hiding something – and whatever it was, it was important enough that he was willing to die to protect it. Lucius felt realisation crash over him like a frothing breaker.

"_Kate_," he hissed. "Oh, you clever thing. She's _here_..."

***

Mike couldn't help a sharp stab of loss and fear, which shone through his expression. Lucius grinned as the reaction proved his guess.

"Endgame, Mike," he whispered. "Now call her."

Mike stared at him, his mouth dry. "What?"

"Call her. Bring her here. And I promise you'll die quick."

_Nothing to lose, now,_ he thought, and brought his hands up, punching Lucius in the gut and trying to move sideways, away from the knife. The black figure growled, and slashed sideways as Mike tried to escape the kitchen.

There was a searing hot pain in his leg, and he fell, clutching at it. Blood, almost as warm as the pain, streamed through his fingers, black in the darkness. Sensing rather than seeing the knife coming back towards him, he rolled sideways, gritting his teeth to prevent a yell.

_Get off the floor_, he growled to himself.

Knowledge of Kate's whereabouts had been his only advantage, and he no longer had that. As he hauled himself to his feet, he worked out that the cut on his leg was deeper than he'd first imagined; he was losing blood fast. Leaning against the wall for support, the world tipped, and brought one hand up to steady himself.

Something solid met his fingers and, realising what it was, he flicked his thumb upwards, and brilliant light filled the room.

Surprised by the brightness, Lucius staggered, pupils rapidly contracting. Mike took advantage of his confusion, and once again made for the knife. His vision swam as he reached out and his hand went nowhere near the weapon. Eyes adjusting to the light, Lucius leapt forward and cracked the butt against Mike's wrist.

Mike's knees buckled, and he grabbed at the kitchen counter to remain upright. Fumbling for a grip, several unfortunate objects – including the toaster – were sent flying, and hit the floor with a loud crash. Breathing heavily, it took a moment for the sound to register. Then he realised it would have been loud enough to wake the dead.

_Shit._

***

For some, the knowledge that someone – quite possibly a homicidal stalker – was in their house might be enough to discourage them from venturing out. Kate slipped out of bed and into her clothes, senses alert for anything that might indicate what had woken her. Even without leaving the bedroom, she could see a light on down the hall.

Common sense would say that Mike had simply gone to the kitchen to get a drink or some other normal midnight activity. Less than a year ago, she would have believed it. But common sense had since been replaced by fear and paranoia, and they were screaming at her that something was wrong.

There was nothing to even resemble a weapon in Mike's bedroom, so she carefully peered around the corner. Still unable to see anything, she crept down the hall, towards the patch of light.

***

He wasn't a fighter. He could kill, and he could threaten, but Lucius had never learnt to fight. With the knife in play, they were evenly matched, except for the cut on Mike's leg, which was affecting him more than he realised.

His left hand was now out of play, too, and he was struggling to defend himself. Continuing to use the hilt instead of the blade, Lucius slammed the knife into Mike's face. There was a sharp crack and the captain fell backwards. He would have hit the ground but for the counter, which pressed sharply into his spine.

A dark smile touching his lips, Lucius advanced. This night had _certainly_ not gone to plan – but he was learning that he could improvise. It seemed the last of Mike's reserves had been extinguished, and he made no move to continue the fight as Lucius fingered the knife, watching carefully for any sign of a trick. Blood covered Mike's face, hands, and legs, and Lucius could finally see something bordering on fear in his widened eyes.

"Any last words?" he asked jovially.

"Run," Mike hissed.

Lucius paused, before realising Mike wasn't looking at him – the captain was looking at something behind him. He spun, to see a flash of blonde hair as Kate made for the door.

Growling deep in his throat, Lucius turned back, using the momentum of his motion to thrust the knife deep into Mike's stomach.

The captain shuddered, hands automatically reaching for the knife, but before he could touch it Lucius was pulling it away.

"I will catch her, and I will kill her," he whispered. "Think of that while you die."


	18. Chapter 18

**Staying Silent, part eighteen – December**

The pain was surreal. It came from deep within, a coldness that stopped all other thought. Sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the counter, Mike tried to open his eyes. They refused to obey, and he blinked, fear accompanying the next surge of destructive pain. _His eyes were already open_. The light was on, his eyes were open, but he couldn't see.

He'd come close to death before, from a vaguely similar injury, and even though he'd been unconscious then, the sensations hitting him now were familiar.

Surging waves of blistering heat swept through him, immediately followed by spears of bone chilling cold. He tried to stand, and the cut on his left leg burned – the pain of it was almost sweet compared to the stab in his gut. It was sharp, and it made sense. This other agony was simply _there_, confusing his senses.

But none of that compared to the ripping inside of him, at the thought that he had failed her. He had tried to save her, tried to calm her, and ultimately tried to die for her… but now he was dying in vain.

_You're not dead yet_, he told himself sharply. _You're blind, unable to move, and in a lot of pain – but you're not dead yet. Do something._

He could still think; at least he wasn't hallucinating or delirious. Though not entirely sure that _thinking_ would help at all, he forced his thoughts away from what Lucius might be doing to Kate, and tried to plan.

But his mind kept swinging back to one thing; the hissed conversation he'd had with Lucius. Was there a clue there? Something that might provide a way out? No, he wasn't that naïve. There wouldn't be a way out.

_Why did he want my phone?_ Mike suddenly wondered, but the thought was lost a second later as he drifted towards unconsciousness.

It would be so easy to tip over the brink, and float in the waiting abyss. So tempting. If he fell asleep now, it would mean never waking up, but he couldn't make it concern him.

_Phones make calls._

As suddenly as his mind had drifted away from the problem it swung back. He pictured the scene in his mind: Lucius grabbing the phone, holding it in one hand, the knife in the other. But then, afterwards, only holding the knife.

The fight. Their brief tussle must have cast it from his fingers, and it was now lying somewhere in the kitchen.

He thought of how long she had waited, refusing to call the police or let anyone other than him know what was going on. Now he had absolutely no choice. A call for help was his – and Kate's – only chance.

If he could find the phone. If he could move.

Gathering himself, he tried to evaluate the most likely resting place of the discarded mobile. Then, waiting for a spike of pain to ease out of his stomach, he rolled sideways.

For a few seconds, there was light – brilliant light, perfectly plain and white. It was all he knew of the pain that had caused him to unconsciously double up. The steady flow of blood increased slightly, even as his fingers slowly reached forward, groping anxiously.

A second later, they met plastic, and he forced himself to keep breathing. _Last chance. Last chance to help her, to help yourself._

His quivering thumb pressed zero, three times, and his strength wavered.

_Stay conscious... have to... stay..._

***

She'd known, even before stepping into the kitchen and, instead of fear, Kate found herself filled with rage. But seeing Mike's bloody face had done more than his single word could have, and she had bolted for the front door.

An action she would ultimately regret. The front door was deadlocked, an attempt at keeping unwanted stalkers _out_ – neither of them had ever imagined it might be their own downfall.

Slapping uselessly at the handle, Kate spun sideways, ducking through the nearest doorway without even thinking about which room she was entering. Mike's laptop rested calmly on a desk to her right, indicating that it was the study – hardly the place she could sort out some kind of emergency weapon.

As she debated the idea of smacking him with the laptop, she noticed something else. A penknife sat innocently to her left, and she grabbed it. Looking for the small blade that accompanied every penknife, she flipped open one side to reveal a two-pronged fork-like implement.

It was too dark to see, but a footfall in the doorway caught her attention. She crouched under the desk, and waited, rotating the weapon in her hand.

"Kate," he called, and she shivered. "I'm _here_, Kate. Where are you hiding?"

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the penknife ever tighter. _This_ was her weapon? A two-pronged blade a little longer than a toothpick was all that stood between them?

"Come out, Kate... maybe I won't kill you. I'm nice like that. I let you live the first time, didn't I?" He laughed softly, and she could just imagine his eyes, gleaming as they searched the darkness. "No, you're not stupid. I know you don't believe that."

He took a step into the room. The only thing that pierced the blackness was the dim light filtering through the window from a streetlight outside. His voice was thick with menace as he continued to talk softly, the words barely audible above her panicking heartbeat and short breaths.

"I'm not stupid, either, Kate. You keep forgetting that. I will admit, you tricked me once... tonight. But your loss. Shouldn't have come. If you'd stayed home like a good little girl, you wouldn't be about to die." He gave another short, soft laugh. "And if you'd answered your phone like I told you to, your boyfriend wouldn't already be dead."

_He doesn't know I'm here_, Kate realised suddenly. He was stepping so slowly into the room, so cautiously. He knew she had to be in the study somewhere – but not exactly where. She tightened her grip on the penknife, not noticing the stream of blood running down her palms as her nails dug in too deep.

_As soon as he moves close enough..._ She grimaced. She would go down fighting, if nothing else.

_He doesn't know where you are,_ she reassured herself.

She was wrong.

"So where are you hiding, Kate? Mike keeps his house so tidy... so few places to hide. There's the cupboard down the end... but no, you know how vulnerable that would leave you. Behind the curtain?" Once more, he laughed, not out of amusement, but more from glee – his prey was cornered, cowering.

"No, I'd be able to see you there. Kate, Kate. Hiding to the end? I expected more from you."

Kate felt her muscles beginning to seize up, from fear and cramps. She swallowed hard, flexed her fingers around the penknife, and consciously forced the fear away. It wouldn't help her here. It couldn't do anything except lower her chances. Even then, it didn't abandon her completely, but she was able to think through it.

"You know I loved you, Kate. You were fear. Everything I saw in you was fear."

She shuddered when he mentioned 'love'. That wasn't right. Couldn't be. But then he had corrected himself; he didn't love her. He loved her fear. And that was enough to allow her to push away the last of the fear. If he wanted it, she wouldn't give it to him.

She refused to let herself think about Mike. If he was dead, then in all likelihood she would be joining him soon. If not... there was nothing she could do. Not now.

"I can almost smell it now. Your fear, Kate. You know what dear Mike thought? _Endgame._ He was right, too, I won't begrudge him that... and he tried... he tried _so_ hard to protect you. He _died_ to protect you... and he failed."

Kate bit her lip to stop herself from hurling a stream of abuse at the man standing so close but as yet out of sight. Another step, maybe two, and his feet would appear in front of her. So long as she could surprise him...

"You think I don't know where you are, Kate? There are not many places to hide. But maybe you think I'm bluffing."

A step closer. Kate tensed; with this sort of 'weapon', only a hit on his eye or throat would be sufficient to stop him.

"You want me to come closer? So you can scratch at my legs? Oh no... this is my game, your end."

The attack was sudden; he ducked down, the knife slicing through the air under the desk. Already pressed up against the wall behind, Kate had nowhere to go, and a burning slice opened across her chest, the blade touching her collarbone. A few centimetres higher and it would have passed cleanly through her throat.

She didn't feel the cut. As the knife withdrew, she leapt after it, bringing the fork up and aiming for his knife hand. The left half missed completely, but the right prong skewered a finger; he pulled back with a shout of pain, and she pressed her advantage, leaping out from her hiding place and standing, aiming at his face – or as close to, because she couldn't see any more than a vague outline.

At the same time, he aimed for her stomach, gripping his knife tightly despite the weakness in one finger. She was much closer than he expected, and the two attacks fell simultaneously. He felt a ripping pain on the right side of his face, as her weapon tore through his ear; and while the blade missed Kate's stomach entirely, the hilt connected with her ribs.

Gasping with shock and pain, even before she heard the sharp _crack_ echo through the darkness, Kate stumbled. But unlike her opponent, she _did_ know how to fight, and allowed her momentum to carry her down, the exact opposite of what he expected her to do. The blade flashed above her, even as she pushed herself up behind him. Knowing it was her only chance – her last chance – she struck at his throat.

He felt her presence behind him, and twisted sideways so that the penknife only grazed his neck as he spun to face her. She was off balance, pitifully armed, too close to him to attempt a retreat, and despite the darkness, he could see the fear glinting in her eyes.

So he laughed.

There was a single instant of paralysing terror, and then she tried to run. Coming up behind him had put her closest to the door – but that moment of motionless cost her. Even as she took the first step back, he had her wrist in his right hand, his grip tightening until she gasped aloud in pain. He twisted and pushed, and she was forced to her knees, face contorted with pain as the penknife dropped from her fingers. She watched it fall, heard the clunk as it hit the floorboards, then slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

Almost gently, he placed the tip of the blade against her lips in a metallic kiss.

"You remember my other promise, Kate," he hissed. "You remember, don't you?"

Her nostrils quivered, and he knew she recalled everything from that night. The night they had first met – the night he had chosen to keep her alive, as his.

"I wanted to cut out your tongue, but you begged me so nicely... you _swore_ on your _life_ you would never tell, that you would do as I said. But now? Mike knows. You barely wasted any time before telling him. And for months now, you've flaunted your resistance..."

He trailed off, but his grip around her wrist never lessened. Instead it tightened after a moment, and she whimpered softly. He grinned, feeling the bones shift and stretch within his fingers.

"I'll keep my promise; I will pull your tongue from your mouth... and then I will kill you."

Kate's eyes widened, the tip of the blade still balanced on her lips. At any moment she expected the taste of metal.

A nine month old memory of blood and pain consumed her, and she found herself back in the dark side street, though still in Mike's study. Separate events blurred, so she wasn't entirely sure what _had_ happened, and what _was_ happening. Time disappeared. She was there, she was here. It was now, it was nine months ago. If not for metal touching the inside of her cheeks she would have screamed. Maybe she screamed anyway.

As it was, she never heard the front door splinter behind her, or the barrage of shouting voices. She didn't see the knife hit the ground, or the flashing blue and red lights come through the window and bounce deliriously off the walls. All she saw was the darkness. As gentle fingers pressed against her throat, then as soft hands stroked her cheeks, all she felt was the rough brick behind her and the tightness of his hands around her wrists.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear two voices. She didn't know which one was real.

"It's Kate, right? My name's Sergeant Hawthorne." Pain.

"You sure you'll remember to stay silent? You won't forget?" Blood.

"There's an ambulance on the way. Kate, can you hear me? Stay with me..." Blood.

"Kate, it says here... can you hear me, _Kate_? Still with us? Keep your promise, Kate..." Pain.

With a single effort, she pulled herself away from both voices, into an ebony silence that took her far away from the pain.


	19. Chapter 19

**Staying Silent, part 19 – December**

Commander Steve Marshall walked slowly down the hospital corridor, putting off the moment when he would have to ask Mike what the _hell_ was going on. Assuming he was conscious, of course. Lord knew he shouldn't even be _alive_ but, as Marshall knew, Mike Flynn had the devil's own luck.

Of course, he'd read the preliminary police report, so he knew the basic facts about _what_ had happened two nights previously. Some lunatic photographer had gone on a killing spree. But no-one had been able to tell him _why_; why two of his officers had been brutally attacked, why he hadn't been told sooner... why Mike's XO had been at her boss' house at the time.

Arriving at the door to Mike's room, he heard voices, and paused.

"How are you feeling?" The question was soft; either with tenderness, or the speaker couldn't work up the energy to speak any louder.

"Fine." Kate; dismissive of her own pain, the single word ridden with guilt. "You should be sleeping."

"Can't sleep."

"Then you should be resting."

"I am! Lying down and everything."

There was a moment of silence, and Marshall could picture Kate's glare attempting to smother the inevitably cocky grin.

"Give it a week and I'll be –"

"Doctors said two."

"And I'm not going to give Commander Marshall the chance to hand away my ship."

Marshall smiled slightly to himself, making a mental note not to even try assigning another captain to Hammersley. If anyone asked, it was because Kate would also be out of action for a while, and no crew could be expected to work under completely unfamiliar leadership.

"I'm sorry." This time Kate didn't even try to hide the guilt.

"Wasn't your fault –"

"I'm sorry I got you involved. I shouldn't have gone to you." She choked slightly, before forcing herself to continue. Marshall strained his ears to hear her, wondering if some of his _why_ questions were about to be answered.

"He never would have made you a target if I hadn't told you, if I hadn't asked for your help..."

She trailed off, and Marshall was suddenly aware of how ridiculous he looked, standing in the corridor with his ear aimed at the slightly-open door. Grimacing, he walked away, intending to speak with Mike after Kate came out.

All he had heard was an XO apologising for bringing her captain into the worries and dangers of her private life. It wasn't so surprising that she had gone to Mike – Marshall knew Kate fairly well, and he knew she wouldn't have had anyone else to turn to. Before his mind could begin to create unusual scenarios, he dismissed the possibility that there was anything to be suspicious about.

He never looked in, and never saw the way their entwined hands rested comfortably in Kate's lap.

***

"It's over," Mike whispered, breaking the silence of the last few minutes. Kate smiled shakily, but there was a fraction of doubt in her eyes. "It's over," he repeated more forcefully, and she nodded.

Kate had given a statement to the police that morning. It had taken several hours yesterday for her to explain what had happened; not just the night before, but all the events of the past nine months. She had worried that without the photos he had sent her – which she had destroyed as soon as she had been able to – there would be nothing to substantiate her claims of intimidation.

What she hadn't taken into account was that the police, upon discovering Lucius' identity, would search his apartment and find all the evidence they needed to successfully charge him with multiple counts of murder, witness intimidation, stalking, several counts of assault, attempted murder, and numerous other petty crimes, primarily burglary. The police men and women searching the place had refused to tell Kate exactly what they had found there, but assured her there was no doubting her story. Upon seeing the evidence, one woman had expressed amazement that Kate had managed not to go completely insane from fear and paranoia.

Kate wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't.

Lucius' identity itself had been a shock. Never had Kate thought he might have been arrogant enough to come right up to her and shake her hand while she stood in the one place she considered safe. So far he was refusing to co-operate, but it didn't matter. He had been caught literally red handed; he'd had only a moment to start the grisly task of slicing though Kate's tongue, but it had been enough for her blood to cover his hands.

Her tongue was healing quickly, and this time didn't need stitches, but the fear remained and no-one was trying to pretend that her life would fit easily back together.

"So where do we go from here?" Mike asked quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

"I don't know." She sounded sad more than anything else, and he knew why.

"We can see each other every day without ever touching, or..." He trailed off. It didn't need to be said aloud.

"I need to be with you," she murmured. "It will be no different than what it was. No... no fraternisation. No getting distracted at work."

Considering his hatred of shore postings and her lingering fear of being alone away from the ship, there was no way they could manage it. Neither felt that the mood was right for a houseboat joke.

They rested in silence from that point.

***

"That long?" Marshall asked, stunned. This had been going on for nine _months_ and he'd been completely unaware of it? He cared for all the sailors serving under him, but Kate had impressed him from her first posting, and he had enjoyed seeing her succeed. Thinking of what had happened to her, his lunch curdled in his stomach. Surely there must have been some signs, something that he should have noticed and reacted to?

"Sir, she was very determined not to let it interrupt her work," Mike said, noticing the guilt on his commander's face. He tried to relieve the tension, adding, "I found her doing paperwork on shore leave."

Marshall nodded, still not smiling. "That's how you found out something was wrong?"

"I suspected. It wasn't until a while after that she told me, however. And... I had no idea what to do. I was going to report it, but then he... Lucius..."

He didn't want to finish. Sticking to the truth was easiest, but he had no intention of letting Marshall know about the comfort he had offered, either over the past few months or last night.

"Don't worry, Mike," Marshall said gruffly, resting a hand on Mike's shoulder. "There was no right move. You did your best. And you're both alive."

"I spoke to her this morning," Mike added, slightly nervous, wondering what Marshall would make of their discussion if he knew of it. "Neither of us want to be off work any longer than we have to be."

There was a warning glint in his eye as he said the last few words, causing Marshall a momentary worry that Mike would discharge himself from hospital if he thought someone else would be allowed to captain Hammersley.

"Take as long as you need," Marshall said. "I'm sure your crew will appreciate the break, too."

"Thank you, Sir," Mike replied, visibly relieved. Well, this was one way of getting his crew leave over Christmas – if not the way he had planned.

***

'No comment' was just a little too cliché, so Lucius remained silent every time they questioned him. It was hard; unbelievably hard. Rage swirled and shifted just beneath the surface, urging him to strike, to cut, but he kept his thoughts in line and held the rage under control. He had no weapon, no way of hurting these smarmy oh-so-confident cops.

One of them was female. Her eyes were hard as she showed him photos, asked questions, made accusations. He smiled slightly at her; was rewarded with a faint flicker of doubt in those icy blue eyes. She wasn't as pretty as Kate, and she didn't go to the same lengths to hide her fear – but she was afraid. He wondered if she'd beg for her life, like Kate had. Probably. But it wouldn't be the same. He already knew that.

The 'interview' progressed. He continued to ignore them. She, the female cop, was becoming more and more unnerved by his total lack of response. Watching her, he felt the cold flush of satisfaction slide through his belly, and the feeling helped him to keep the rage under control.

He smiled again, wider; a flash of white teeth.

Interview over.


	20. Chapter 20

**Staying Silent, part 20 – January**

Constable Jennifer Lawson studied the woman in front of her carefully before sitting down. She wanted to say the right thing, something that would help… but she wasn't sure what that was.

"They won't need to call you at the trial," she began. Kate nodded mutely. "That's if there's a trial at all. Mr Samuels has only just asked for a lawyer, and they will take one look at our evidence and advise a guilty plea."

"He won't," Kate muttered flatly.

A pair of cool blue eyes gazed at her reassuringly. "I have no idea how you managed to survive for so long with him in your life. But we've got him, now."

"For how long?" Kate asked harshly. "It's been two weeks. He's patient. He's planning something."

The constable rested one hand on Kate's shoulder, but was treated to a glare and removed it a second later. "Kate, it's over now. You can stop being afraid."

"People keep telling me it's over. Why doesn't it feel like it?"

"Maybe this will help," Jennifer suggested, pulling over a newspaper. "His name was Terry Sinclair. His wife reported him missing over nine months ago. It's not a happy ending for her... but at least she has closure."

"I hope it's worth it," Kate muttered.

***

Mike glared at the carpet. The police had organised for a professional cleaner to remove the blood, but there was still a dark stain. His blood, which had covered half the kitchen floor, the counter, the drawers, the fridge, and left a few streaks on one wall, had come off easily enough. But Kate's blood wouldn't leave his carpet.

It wasn't the stain itself that concerned him; it was more the guilt he felt every time he saw it. No matter how many times someone told him it wasn't his fault, or she told him she didn't blame him, he knew that there must have been something he could have done to change things.

The only comfort was that it was finally over. And while he knew Kate was struggling to come to terms with that, he felt it was about time.

Sighing, he knew there was one thing about this whole incident he couldn't regret; the hours he had spent with Kate in his arms. No matter how much pain would now come from loving her and having to pretend he didn't, he knew he could deal with it just by recalling the way she had whispered his name.

He grimaced. Speaking of pain... he needed to have another round of antibiotics soon. Hopefully with some painkillers.

***

His fingers tap-danced on the railing as he watched the spectacle below. More than anything else, gaol was _boring_, and watching various inmates make fools out of themselves was as good a way as any of passing the time. Before the fight could progress to interesting, a guard would pull them apart, at which point the rowdy men always booed and hissed.

Lucius sighed quietly. Did they seriously find this entertaining? What the _hell_ was the point of it? They weren't trying to kill each other, probably weren't even angry with each other.

Puzzling over the thought processes of the average male criminal; now that was interesting. And it kept his thoughts away from Kate.

He wouldn't have minded life behind bars so much if he'd been able to finish her off before being sent down. Worse still, Mike had somehow survived, too.

_Which is what you get for not doing things properly_, he rebuked himself sharply. Somewhere along the line, he had lost control –the rage had overtaken him. Next time he would be more patient.

Before he could be sucked into a fantasy about what 'next time' would involve, he was shaken back to reality by someone shoving him sideways. He glared at the figure and pushed back.

A fist connected with his jaw a second later, and he stumbled backwards. Not too long ago, that would have been when he either walked away, or pulled a knife and showed the bastard not to mess with him.

But he had no knife here.

_Mike didn't need a knife_, he realised. _He was unarmed, injured, you were armed... and he still almost beat you._

The man who had hit him was already moving on. Stepping closer, Lucius punched him in the neck.

Lucius had no idea what sort of hit to what part of the body would cause the most pain, but there was one way to find out. These guys would – unwittingly – teach him. Next time, he would be ready.

_So that's the point_, he mused, a smirk of satisfaction crossing his face even as he was knocked to the ground.

***

Nikki frowned. She could hear something moving in the roof and, while logic told her it was Sammy the possum, she couldn't help but think about what had happened to Kate and shiver. As if she needed more proof that the world was full of whack-jobs.

There was a sudden scraping sound, right above her, and she nervously pushed herself out of bed. As she walked down the hall she was surprised to feel her stomach churning uncertainly.

She cautiously unlocked the back door, stepping outside. "Sammy?" she called. "That you? Don't you remember, we agreed you'd stay _out_ of the roof while I'm here."

There was a scrabbling above her, then something wet slid out of the gutter, crashing into the screen door and staying there. Nikki gave a short yelp of surprise, and it wasn't until her rapidly beating heart had slowed ever so slightly she was able to recognise the shape as a ringtail possum.

"Sammy!" she growled. "Now stay out."

The possum gave her a look which could only be described as pleading . A cold drop landed on her cheek, then another, and she struggled to keep her glare in place as rain poured down on the two of them. From the look of the soaked possum, it wasn't the first time it had rained that night.

Eventually, Sammy gave up, and began climbing down the screen door. Halfway to the ground, one toe became tangled in the mesh and there was a sharp _rip_. Nikki rolled her eyes, unable to do anything but watch as a few centimetres of screen came loose.

"You've done it now, Sammy. Get outta here."

The possum was either feeling guilty about damaging her door, or unnerved by the loud noise, because he immediately scampered away.

Inspecting the damage more closely, Nikki realised the screen would have to be replaced. It had torn away from the edge, and anyone would be able to reach in and unlock the screen door with it like that – and Sammy wasn't exactly a guard dog.

_All sorts of whack-jobs, _she repeated silently, heading back inside to dry off and – hopefully – get some more sleep. Her house had so few defences and, until now, that had never worried her. It was a good thing no-one had ever come after her before.


	21. Chapter 21

**Staying Silent, part 21 – February**

He watched. And waited. Once, that had been his forte. Then Kate, damned Kate, had invaded his head and made it all go wrong. Stuck in prison, still waiting for a trial date to be set, there wasn't much to do.

A year ago, he had been patient. Watchful. Careful. Kate had destroyed him. But not anymore. He already knew how he wanted her to die – staring into his camera.

Three photos, he mused. The perfect death. Just three. One, when recognition flared. The second, the shock as she felt ten inches of steel enter her body. And the third, it would be the best of all; taken at the very instant when the light faded from her eyes.

He dreamt about it. Camera in one hand, knife in the other. He'd take out Mike, too, if he could, but he was no longer a priority.

But of course that would never, could never, happen. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't that good. He couldn't take photos _as_ he killed her, and he hated working with others. He had once believed that each photo was like a captured life, to be held for eternity; but lately he was reconsidering. A frozen image of Kate wasn't the same as Kate.

Sighing, Lucius turned his gaze to the fight happening below. He'd long since given up on them; he wasn't built as a fighter, wasn't meant to be a fighter. And when he faced her next, Kate wouldn't have a chance to react. All he needed was a knife.

Fortunately, he knew where to get one.

***

"What you want, Lucas?"

"It's Lucius," he growled, making sure to pronounce the _c_ with an _s_ sound, giving the name three syllables. "I heard that I could get things from here?"

"What kinda things?"

Sebastian was certainly a character; nineteen, with connections in every corner inside the prison as well as outside, and the brains to make it all work to his advantage.

"I also heard you've been having some problems with one of the guards."

That wasn't actually something he had _heard_ – he had observed Sebastian's feud with the unbribable prison guard himself. A benefit of patience, he named it. He was falling back into the habit of _waiting_ and _watching_ – and not acting until he was sure he knew what to do. Or, in this case, what to say.

"None of your business, Lou."

"I want a knife. That's _business_."

As much as he had tried, he hadn't been able to pick up the gaol lingo any better than he had fighting skills. But no matter.

"You a vampire or something?" Sebastian asked with a shit-eating grin. "Feeling the urge to spill blood?"

"Something like that," Lucius replied. "But this is why I came to you. Get me a knife – a good one – and I'll take care of your guard problem."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Lucius' taller figure. "By take care of..."

"I can kill him. If you want me to."

For a few seconds there was silence. A heavy, thoughtful silence. Slowly, Sebastian stepped forward and leaned in close.

"We never met. Got it? I'm not asking you to do anything, but I'll see what I can do. And if you feel..."

"Yes, yes," Lucius snapped, bored with the conversation. "I won't say you told me to do it."

As Lucius walked away, Sebastian's cellmate glanced at the young man. "You just agreed to give a multi-murderer a deadly weapon."

Sebastian shrugged. "Poor bloke just wants to kill someone. Not my problem."

***

A greater plan was already forming in his head. Where he would go. How he would survive. Most importantly; how he would get to Kate. For now, he waited. And waited. For three weeks, he waited.

Then he saw his chance, and took it.

Milk delivery truck. Side door open. All he had to do was get close enough.

Fortunately, his current plan had already taken care of that. The guard who had been creating "business issues" for Sebastian – Isaac Carmody – and who had already been marked by Lucius, was guarding the exit to the cell block.

Lucius carefully slid his – well, it wasn't really a knife, but it would do – from beneath his pants. The flat piece of metal was unbalanced in his hand, and as he stepped into a dark corner and slid it into the guard's belly, he felt the rear end cut into his own hand. But it wasn't anywhere near enough to stop him.

He grabbed the man's keys. Outside, it was as dark as night and visibility was down to ten metres, thanks to the pouring rain. The only light came from the frequent flashes of lightning.

As the milk truck moved away from the prison, the sound of its engine covered by the growl of thunder, so did Lucius. Later on, the truck would be stopped and extensively searched. Cops would cover the length of its journey, for any sign.

Nothing.

Because he'd never been in it. That would be what they were expecting. And Lucius hated fulfilling expectations.

***

"Sir?" RO held up the phone. "Commander Marshall."

It was nearly a minute later that the crew realised something was wrong. Apart from a brief salutation, Mike hadn't said a word. As he listened, his face grew steadily whiter, whether from shock or anger, they couldn't tell.

"I understand... yes, sir," he muttered eventually, handing the phone back to RO. "X, I need a word," he added sharply.

Kate stood and followed him out of the bridge, her gut clenching slightly. Once in his cabin, he gestured at his chair.

"Sit down."

She blanched. "No."

Leaning past her, he closed the door. "Kate –"

"No," she repeated in a whisper. "No, no, _no_."

Her hands were shaking, and he reached forward as if to take them; but she snatched them away, glancing once at the door as if she wanted to run. Mike opened his mouth again, but she cut him off.

"Don't say it," she begged. "Please... don't say it."

"He's out."

"How?" she asked weakly, sitting down. For a moment, he didn't reply. "Tell me," she demanded.

"Killed a guard. They're not sure about what happened after that. It's been fifteen hours, and no sign."

Even before he had finished speaking, he could feel her trying to close herself up, hastily erect emotional walls. Anything to keep the panic and fear from showing.

"Fifteen hours?" she repeated weakly. "He could be anywhere."

"The police don't think he's headed here. They don't think he'll come after you, because he has to know that's where they'll be. They're offering you –"

"No," she interrupted, standing up. "No witness protection. No safe house."

"The police are confident on recapturing him within the next twenty four hours."

"I don't care," she hissed. "I'm staying here. And I mean, _here_. If they're so confident on catching him... I am not leaving Hammersley until they do."

Mike restrained himself from protesting. Events last December had proven he couldn't protect her. But the ship, with someone on watch, within Naval security premises?

He nodded slowly. "If you think that's best. But if they..."

"If they don't find him?" she finished when he trailed off. "I don't know." Her voice cracked as she repeated, "I don't know."

His eyes hardened. "I'll find him if they don't."

Kate wasn't listening. Her eyes were unfocused, staring helplessly at the wall behind him. Gently, he tried to tough her arm, but she shook his hand off.

"He's not going to stop," she realised aloud, her voice catching. "He's not going to give up until I'm dead."

"Kate," Mike said softly, trying to calm her. "I'll find him."

"Why? Why _bother_? If they lock him up again, he'll escape again. He's mad. He's focused on nothing but killing me. The only..." Her voice broke, and her head dropped as she struggled to fight back sobs. There was suddenly the cool sensation of Mike's fingers on her cheeks; she looked up, and their eyes met.

He felt something deep within him tear. _Not here,_ he reminded himself. _Not ever._ Her watery green eyes stared back, both desperate and restrained, and he wondered what they had condemned themselves to.

Slowly, his hands dropped away. "I will not let him hurt you again," he said, voice low but passionate. She opened her mouth to protest, to point out the futility of recapturing Lucius, but he cut her off. "I will do whatever it takes."

"You tried that already," she pointed out with a sad smile. "You were nearly killed."

"Because I made a mistake. Several, actually. I've learned, and this time..."

"You think he won't have learned, too? His mistake was leaving you to die rather than finishing it. He won't do that again. Mike... I don't want him to hurt you. Again. Ever."

Her concern for him, shining brighter than her own fear, almost pushed him over the edge of reason. Right then, he knew; he would never be able to do it. Work with her, pretend he didn't feel the urge to kiss her, hold her. Pretend he didn't love her. He felt weak at the knees just thinking about her.

_Let's focus on keeping her alive,_ he told himself sternly._ Then we can work something out._

"I need you... to trust me," he said slowly. "I need you to be safe."

That was as close as he would let himself get to saying, I need you. From the tender acceptance in her eyes, he knew she understood.

Then it was time. He had to step away, get back to work. _Closed door, Mike_, a voice whispered in his head. _Who's going to know?_

He swallowed. She was too close. He could feel her breath on his neck, her eyes stroking his face.

Suppressing a moan, he moved away. No. Not today.

***

Lucius leant against the fence, relaxed. He didn't know much about folklore, but strange things were supposed to happen on full moons, equinoxes, eclipses and the like. Why not tonight?

Maybe tonight was just his night. Free for three days now. He wasn't going to bother going to Kate's house, or even Mike's. She wouldn't be there, but the cops almost certainly would.

_Unpredictable_, he said to himself, and grinned. Three days, and he finally had his hands on a knife. A _real_ knife, not the pathetic piece of sharpened metal he'd used to get out of gaol. Two fingers stroked the hilt reverently. Fifteen centimetre grip and twenty eight centimetre blade, smooth on one side, jagged on the other. A tough sale price, but the instant he had seen it, he had known he wanted it. This would be the knife to take her life.

Grinning at his own little rhyme, he almost missed the flash of movement above. When he realised his wait was almost over, he pulled the blade from its sheath at his side and rotated it in front of his eyes. Another hour, maybe, to make sure she was asleep. The waiting practise would do him good.

***

Having been here before, he was expecting it to be easy. What he found was... well, for a full ten minutes he had to alternate between staring at the set-up in front of him and fighting the desire to laugh.

The heat of the summer night meant that many residents left the main doors open and secured the house by locking the screen door. An amusing idea at the worst of times. But this? The screen had been ripped diagonally along its length, and been reattached with some sort of sticky tape. Eventually, Lucius forced himself to get back on track and, with a grin, slipped a finger underneath the tape and let the screen fall open. Reaching through, he unlocked the screen door and let himself into the house.

Business first. It took him barely minutes to find all the information he wanted. Details of Hammersley's scheduled shore leave. Dates. Rosters.

He smirked at the sight of Kate's name. She had many more watches arranged while on shore leave than any of the other names.

In a single motion, he slipped the various bits of paper into a pocket at the same time as he pulled the knife from its sheath and made his way up the hall.

Watching the sleeping figure, he felt the unquenchable thirst for blood fill his mind. He didn't know the woman's name. Only that she was Kate's friend. For that, she should die. And how better to let Kate know he was coming after her?

He grinned, but the expression was short lived. The voice of reason was telling him to get away, back down. The plan wasn't to kill her. _Stuff the plan,_ he growled. _I want to._

But not following the plan had been his downfall, hadn't it? _Don't get distracted,_ he warned himself.

Rotating the knife in the fingers of one hand, he watched her for a few more minutes, trying to decide. Of course, the last thing he needed was to leave a trail of bodies. If the cops knew he had been here, it would be harder to lie low.

Frustrated, he slipped the knife back into its sheath.

***

Nikki rolled over, trying not to open her eyes. It was quiet, and she knew it must still be the middle of the night. It had been a long day, and she wanted to slip back into deep sleep.

But what had woken her? A noise? Resigned, she cracked her eyes open, and looked towards the bedroom door.

"Sammy?"

Nothing.

Sighing mentally, she dropped her head back to her pillow and closed her eyes. Kate got a stalker, she got a possum. She couldn't really complain.


	22. Chapter 22: Epilogue

**Staying Silent, Epilogue – April**

As she moved to leave his cabin, Mike gently touched her arm. "Something you're not telling me?"

Her startled gaze lifted to meet his – and there was a cautious unsteadiness that he had long ago learned was a sign of guilt. He sighed.

"Kate, please. Talk to me."

"It's nothing important. Nothing new."

"It's been a month. There's..." Mike sighed, before forcing himself to finish. "There's been no sign of him."

"It's been six weeks, actually. Thirty-nine days. And you know what else?" She didn't give him time to respond. "It's been a year. One year, Mike, today."

Seeing her fear, he immediately tried to reassure her. "Kate, if he was anywhere near here, I would have found him. He's long gone."

She nodded, obviously unconvinced, and he inched closer. All these work-related conversations, discussions between a CO and his XO... each time, he managed to touch her in some small way. On the arm, or shoulders brushing in the small space. In reply, she would find some excuse to linger, to look into his eyes as he smiled.

The same things that made working together so damn hard were all that kept them going.

"What is it?" he asked, bringing the conversation full circle.

"Messages," she replied quietly, distinctly reluctant to tell him. "In the post. On my phone. Nothing new. Just... trying to scare me."

"Succeeding?"

She glared, and he smiled at the brief glimpse of the 'old Kate'. "I'm ignoring them."

"What do they say?" he persisted.

She hesitated, and he placed one hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Various threats," she mumbled. "How he wants to kill me. Somehow... he knows all the shore leave we have rostered. He said he'll be waiting. And every time... he says when."

"When?" Mike repeated, confused.

"When he's going to kill me. All of the messages, the texts, the letters... they all end with.." She paused, and his head dropped a few centimetres. Looking straight into his eyes, she took a slow breath and finished. "They end with 'when you least expect it'."

There was silence for a moment. Mike swallowed, more determined than ever to find Lucius himself – before the police could. It was the only way he could make her safe, and _keep_ her safe.

"Then, this morning. An email. Just that one warning. Nothing else. But it's a moot point, isn't it?" Kate continued sadly. "Because he said that... now, whenever I'm on shore, whenever we're in port, I'm expecting it. I'm waiting. So there isn't a time that I'm least expecting it. Unless he means... while I'm on the ship."

"But he can't get onto the ship. I promise you, Kate, he will never set foot on my ship."

"Again," she pointed out, and he grimaced.

"Fine. Never _again_."

She nodded. "I know. This is the one place I can feel safe... it's why I don't want witness protection. If it's on land, if it's _somewhere_... I wouldn't feel safe." Her voice dropped lower. "I don't feel safe unless I'm near you."

Somehow, his hands had crept into position around her face, his thumbs softly stroking. She didn't protest, and he couldn't think of any reason to stop.

"I've got a boarding party to lead soon, remember," she murmured. Oh, right. That reason.

"You sure you want to –"

"Sir," she cut in sharply, and he snorted to himself. "I can do my job. It's not the safest, but I feel a hell of a lot safer out here than..." She trailed off, then restarted. "So _let_ me do my job."

The soft, tender look in his eyes as he gazed at her was answer enough. He would let her, and he would be praying for her the entire time.

_Work_, he reflected sadly. That was the problem. At any minute, Nav would find their target vessel on radar, and it would be back to work; which meant no more time to be spent on trivial "work-related" discussions.

"There's nothing trivial about you," he murmured, so quietly she frowned at him.

"What was that?"

Against his will, he dragged his hands back to his sides. "Wear Kevlar," he suggested, and she snorted.

"I'm paranoid enough, Mike. We're responding to a mayday."

"Has Nav had any more contact with the woman who made the call?"

"Not last I heard."

"Then there could be something wrong. Pirates."

"Her boat was damaged in the storm. If the engine couldn't handle it, who's to say the radio didn't break as well? What?"

He smirked at her. "I like worrying about normal things," he revealed.

Nodding in understanding, there wasn't the chance to say anything further as Nav's voice came over the radio.

"Captain, sir, Navigator. We've got the yacht on radar. She's not moving, no signs of life, no response on the VHF."

Mike grabbed the phone of the wall. "Copy that, Nav. Call boarding stations."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "About time I got back to work, then." One hand rested on the doorhandle, but before she could turn it, she took a deep breath, turned back to him –

And kissed him. Just a very short, loving nip to his lower lip, and by the time he had found the ability to respond she was out the door.

Watching her over the next few minutes, as she, Buffer, Swain, ET and Bomber pulled life jackets over their uniforms, then headed for the RHIB, he had the strangest feeling that maybe everything was going to be all right.

***

The boarding party split up to search the yacht, calling out greetings and questions to the too-silent air. It was Buffer, looking into the interior of the single cabin, who found her – bound and gagged.

A minute later, he finally began to make sense of her garbled explanation.

"Oh my God, thank you! Thank you! I thought he was going to kill me! He said he was going to kill me and made me sail out here then told me to use the radio and say that the engine was damaged in the storm and that I needed assistance. It was really weird, because there was a boat we saw earlier that he just ignored he made me wait until we had the Navy nearby –"

Buffer absent-mindedly pushed the woman's flailing hands off him, and she turned to continue her lamentation to ET, who had just appeared in the doorway.

"X?"

***

Kate took a step into the small, dark engine room of the yacht, throwing up the options of either pulling out her torch or finding a light switch. Taking a step further forward, she felt the back of her neck prickling, and stiffened. She opened her mouth to call out, but the words died in her throat as another voice spoke up.

"When you least expect it... would be now."

No way of telling which direction the voice had come from. No way of defending herself from the unseen.

No time to cry out.

As a long-fingered hand appeared from the darkness and wrapped around her throat, there was only time for a silent scream of pure terror.

_No!_

Then cold. In her stomach. Freezing cold, spreading out. Everything moved in slow motion. Her mouth was slightly open, but she couldn't move it. Something wet dribbled down her chin, and in the distance was the taste of blood.

The room seemed even darker now than it had been a minute ago. All she could see was his grey eyes, laughing at her; then a brief sensation of pain, and even those faded away.

***

Mike watched from the bridge as the boarding party jumped onto the yacht, and spread out. Not long after, ET radioed over that they had found a woman, apparently panicked but uninjured. He watched as Buffer left the two of them to find the X.

The first indication that anything was wrong was the sound of gunshots echoing across the water.

***

Thoughts spinning through his mind like ants in a washing machine, Buffer didn't notice the heat spreading through his hands as he held onto the burning pistol, nor the bright light that filled the room when Swain found the light switch.

Some form of autopilot must still have been operating, because when the captain started yelling over the radio, asking who had fired the shots, Buffer was able to answer.

"I did. One male hostile down."

Buffer swallowed. So intent was he in watching Swain attend to the X, he didn't hear the captain's next question the first, or second, time around.

"Where's the X?"

She's unconscious, he tried to say. Bleeding.

He couldn't get the words past his lips. Couldn't make himself lift the radio. Because he didn't know if it was true.

Swain's fingers were resting on her neck, searching for a pulse. Shifting position slightly, checking again. And again.

_CPR,_ Buffer realised desperately. _She needs CPR. Now!_

But he couldn't say it, and Swain didn't look like he was about to try.

"Buffer! Buffer?" He could feel the heavy weight of the radio in his hand, as Swain slowly pulled his hand away. "Where is she? What's going on?"

Swain look up, his eyes strangely empty. Finally, Buffer keyed the radio.

"She's dead, sir."

***


End file.
